The Dragon That Drinks Uranium (3)
The Dragon That Drinks Uranium (3)
Rote was slightly startled by her father's words.
"A spell you've been developing in secret?"
"Exactly as it sounds. There's something I've been researching for the past ten years."
It wasn't unusual for a noble family to research magic in secret from other houses. In fact, it happened frequently in Imperial society.
That wasn't why Rote was surprised by her father's statement.
"I thought it was about time I told you, now that you've come of age."
Secretly researched Magic Arts were usually kept even from family members. There were several precedents where a slip of the tongue by a relative had ruined everything.
Therefore, passing down a secretly developed magic art to one's child carried a special implication.
[I shall designate you as the next head of the family.]
"I want to entrust you with this research, which is like my very alter ego."
Each family had slightly different criteria, but the framework was the same. In a scholarly house like the Saliere family, rather than directly naming a successor, they used such elegant methods to hint at it.
There was no way the astute Rote would fail to grasp her father's meaning.
"......."
Rote hesitated for a moment.
A succession designation, so soon after returning from the academy?
Her father was still in robust health. He never suffered from even minor ailments.
Compared to him, Rote was still young. She was just a novice who had barely finished her first semester of the first year at the academy. It was time for her to focus on her studies.
It wasn't even as if she lacked older siblings. Her elder sister excelled in commerce, and her elder brother had considerable talent for alchemy. They were all prodigies with outstanding abilities in their respective fields.
Rote thought she lacked the legitimacy to be the next family head.
"Rote, this is very important, so listen carefully from now on."
Regardless of her feelings, her father pressed on.
Clatter. A small stone, about the size of a silver coin, dropped onto the study desk.
"Do you know what this is?"
"It's a black pebble."
It was a small, black stone that looked ominous.
She knew where these stones rolled around in abundance.
"Did you pick it up from Pitchblende Mountain?"
"That's right. Actually, this isn't just an ordinary stone."
Her father added one more word.
"It's a Magic Stone."
"A Magic Stone?"
At her father's answer, Rote tilted her head in confusion.
"Come here and hold this."
At her father's suggestion, she gripped the stone. She focused her nerves on her fingertips, and soon, she began to sense something.
"It really is a Magic Stone. I can feel the mana."
She hadn't noticed a single thing even when she used to play with them so much as a child. Inwardly marveling at her own growth, Rote continued.
"But it's very weak. If we were to grade it, it would barely qualify as a Low-Grade."
"Yes, it would naturally feel that way."
A sudden sense of déjà vu washed over her.
Strange. For some reason, she felt as if she knew the use of this Magic Stone. Count Saliere smiled as he looked at Rote standing there blankly with a meaningful expression.
"Daughter, come over here this time."
Rising from his study chair, Count Saliere slowly walked toward a large bookshelf. Rote's gaze followed his movements.
"There's actually a hidden space over here."
With those words, her father pushed the bookshelf to the side. Just as he said, a hidden gap appeared.
She'd had no idea such a space existed. Rote let out an exclamation of wonder and squeezed herself into the cramped space after her father.
"Whoa."
The admiration burst out once more.
"What is all this?"
A massive piece of magitech lay coiled in the hidden chamber of the study.
At its core were hundreds of thousands of scrolls engraved with an Advanced Construction Formula, and around them, a power unit—firmly packed with all manner of expensive Magic Stones—was solidly fixed in place.
"It's called a Refining Machine."
"Refining...?"
"Showing you will be faster than explaining."
The black stone placed in the Refining Machine entered the inlet via a conveyor belt. The sound of numerous scrolls activating simultaneously rang out, and the machine began to move, emitting a low hum.
After some time had passed, the machine completed its series of processes and gently spewed a light-yellow stone powder into a test tube located at the end.
A powder that looked soft. Yet its hue was dangerous.
She'd vaguely realized it with the knowledge she'd gained from studying Transmutation. If one were to collide a fire-attribute element with that substance, an irreversible explosion would occur.
"You've caught on?"
At her father's question, Rote quietly nodded.
"This Magic Stone is common on Pitchblende Mountain, but that, in other words, means it's a stone only found in the mountains behind us. And only you and I know about this application."
"Then...."
"Our Rote has excellent magical talent. I'm certain you'll be able to use this stone to create a great magic art."
"You haven't decided what kind of spell to make it into yet?"
"That would depend on the circumstances. Considering its explosive power, it could be used for war, or it could become an alternative fuel to replace coal."
The Magic Art her father was trying to devise was, in fact, not a magic art at all. It was perhaps something closer to engineering.
It seemed he was attempting to establish an entirely new branch of Magic Arts. Though Rote couldn't fully absorb everything from her conversation with him, she nodded along for the moment.
"Still, if mishandled, it feels like it could be used in dangerous ways."
"That's precisely why I'm researching it in secret. You mustn't tell anyone, understand?"
"Ah. Because someone might misuse it?"
"That's right. How clever, my daughter."
The responsibility had grown heavy.
She could put off the succession issue and discuss it slowly with her older siblings later. For now, she and her father were the only ones who knew the use of this black Magic Stone.
She never would have guessed that refining a common pebble found scattered underfoot in the mountain behind her house would yield such a high-grade product.
Yes, she wouldn't think about it for now. It was a rare break from school, and her youth was too precious to waste on agonizing headaches.
"Alright, Father. I'll go to bed now then."
While they were talking, it had already grown late. Finishing her conversation with her father, Rote gave a polite bow and returned to her own room.
It was an exceedingly spacious room. It was large enough for four people to use comfortably. This was the place Rote had shared with her elder sister when she was a child.
Because she had shared it with her sister, there were two beds. In her childhood, Rote would take the inner bed and her sister the one by the window to conclude each day.
Someone else occupied the window spot now. As the breeze fluttered in through the open window, jet-black hair swayed gently.
Golden eyes, holding the entire universe within them, reflected the moonlight as they scattered an air of noble elegance. In Rote's sight, a pair of refined topaz gems gleamed.
The girl from the Gold-Eye Tribe was staring intently at the mountain far beyond the window. Because of this, she didn't seem to have noticed Rote's arrival.
A trace of an inexplicable loneliness could be felt in those eyes gazing over the mountain.
Yes.
─ Send me hooome.
Those were the eyes of someone feeling homesickness. Recalling the sleep-talk Aether had mumbled in the carriage, Rote casually approached and sat down beside her.
"What's over there?"
Rote pointed toward the direction where Pitchblende Mountain lay.
Pitchblende Mountain was part of the Elankaya Mountains. Elankaya was famous as the homeland of the Gold-Eye Tribe. Perhaps Aether was a child who had come from beyond that mountain range.
Her guess was spot on.
"Hometown."
"Hometown?"
The direction Aether pointed to was clearly where the beastfolk lived. It wasn't Imperial territory, nor was it the northern lands leading to the Demon Continent. Rote soon realized that Aether's finger was fixed on the peak of Pitchblende Mountain.
A sudden chill ran down Rote's spine.
She didn't know why. It was just an instinctive anxiety born of ignorance.
Come to think of it, there wasn't much Rote knew about Aether. That was because they'd only known each other for three months.
That was something she could learn gradually. Rote naturally led the small talk forward.
"Do you have anyone you know back home? Like siblings?"
"There's one."
"Really?"
It was the first time she'd heard Aether had a sibling. Rote's eyes sparkled.
"Really? Who?"
"I have an older sister."
"An older sister?"
Aether rubbed her eyes. She had used the word a man would use for an older sister and quickly corrected herself.
"I mean, an older sister. Just one."
"What was she like?"
"She was a mess at life."
The conversation didn't extend further than that.
Aether twirled her pen with a practiced flick of her fingers and alternated her gaze between the book and the mountain. The trail of the nib she scratched across the pages of the Hardcover Book inscribed the theorems of differential geometry.
She continued to unfold complex formulas in the blank spaces of the Hardcover Book. Even for Rote, who had completed advanced mathematics coursework through the 3rd-year level, the content was so difficult she couldn't fully understand it. There were few symbols she recognized, making it look like an alien language.
Tap. The scratching sound ceased.
"I don't know where my sister lives now. Actually, I don't even know if she's dead or alive. Still, I figure she wouldn't die with that stubborn life of hers. If I go back home and look for her, won't I see her again someday?"
"...Aren't you on bad terms with her?"
"I was the same mess at life, back then."
A yawn filled the room. Outside, the moon had already passed its zenith and was setting behind the mountain.
"Let's sleep."
After washing up, the two lay down in their respective beds. Even in the darkness without a single light source, Aether's golden eyes shone faintly.
Rote buried herself under the blanket. Her mind was in disarray because of the earlier conversation with her father.
Tick, tick, tick.
How long had she been tossing and turning to the sound of the second hand?
Rote sat up in the total darkness. She'd slept, but didn't feel like she'd rested well.
"...What time is it?"
Driven by a sense of foreboding, she got up without realizing it. Rote conjured a faint ember in her hand. She slipped on her slippers and dazedly shuffled over to the bed by the window.
Rubbing her eyes, Rote looked straight ahead. There was nothing before her.
Aether had vanished.