Chapter 131
Chapter 131
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 131
Chapter Title: Sunken Ship 1
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Brand rummaged through the enormous stacks of books and discovered a hidden drawer inside a bookshelf, along with the memo inside it and a safe.
“This is something. Without guidance, I’d have wasted five hundred years here.”
Midiam marveled at the sheer number of books.
It was truly fortunate that Brand had snapped back to his senses(?) at just the right moment. Otherwise, they would have spent all their time tearing through this study.
“Count Garnahair only ever appeared as an old man, so it’s hard to believe, but in his youth, he was remarkably clever and talented. A promising lord with a bright future ahead.”
“Hard to believe.”
“That’s what aging is. It changes you bit by bit into something you don’t even recognize.”
Brand winced as he reminisced about the past, then approached the writing desk and began transcribing.
“I’ll copy the important parts of the count’s memo for you. The sections about the Emperor’s treasure vault.”
In his youth, Count Garnahair had traveled far and wide in search of the Emperor’s treasure vault, documenting his journeys in his memo. He claimed to have come close to the vault itself, even acquiring related treasures and one of the Emperor’s keys.
“Let’s see…”
Azadin read through the transcript Brand handed him.
“Where the throne of Arangi and Banreung intersect. In the land where the serpent coils twice, the remnants of an ancient waterfall mark the gate to an old kingdom. There, an ancient master craftsman who contracted with the Emperor forged the keys to the treasure. Two keys in total: one held by the King of the Ancient Hill, the other by the King of the Old Hearth. They swore eternal loyalty to the Emperor. To safeguard humanity when the era of Jupiter arrives, the Emperor made provisions for the distant future. The keys allow entry, but the vault will truly open only in the era of Jupiter that the Emperor foresaw.”
Azadin clicked his tongue after reading it.
“What’s this nonsense? Even with the keys, opening the treasure vault is impossible, but entry is allowed?”
“As you can see, there were two keys. Arael took only one of them, so don’t worry too much.”
“There’s nothing not to worry about.”
Regardless, hadn’t Arael already claimed one of the two keys?
On top of that, she had talented subordinates and was a formidable mage herself. Azadin had no room for complacency.
“I don’t know how hard the count tried to open the Emperor’s treasure vault after obtaining that key. But he couldn’t.”
“Arael calls herself a goddess. She’s probably more capable than the count. Whatever.”
“Hahaha. In this old man’s eyes, you’re quite the talent yourself, Azadin. Take these treasures the count kept. They were stored alongside his memo—dwarven treasures, so they’re likely more valuable than the key.”
Brand pulled out an orange pen, black arm warmers, and chainmail gauntlets, handing them to Azadin.
“This pen is the Flame Script Pen. Heat its tip with fire, and you can write flame scripts to cast fire magic.”
Brand heated the pen’s tip over a candle and wrote on his axe-spear. Flames danced along the characters etched into the blade, which then ignited on its own.
“Nice.”
“It’s not all that useful, really. You need a fire source to activate it, and anyway, once an axe blade buries into someone’s skull, they’re dead regardless.”
In other words, adding flames to a weapon didn’t change the fact that a solid hit killed. Sure, you could press a blade against armor to conduct heat, but there was no reason to linger that long in melee.
“No, it’s different for close-combat weapons.”
For the Herald Clan, who favored bows, it was a different story. They could apply fire arrows without expending mana—a highly practical tool.
“These arm warmers are the Shadow Shields. Quite impressive. And the gauntlets are the Gauntlets of Strength. All dwarven royal treasures of incalculable value, but take them. They’ll surely aid in finding the Emperor’s treasure vault.”
“Magic treasures, eh? Let’s see.”
Azadin slipped on the Gauntlets of Strength and lifted a massive bronze writing desk beside the study.
It lifted.
But Azadin’s strength was already enhanced by the Kazas Hetze’s physical reinforcement, so it was hard to say this proved the gauntlets’ effect.
“…No effect for me. Seems the gauntlets’ magic activates the body, but…”
Azadin sensed the gauntlets’ magic clashing with the distorted grimoire’s power inside him, nullifying the effect.
“Either way, are you sure you can decide to give away such valuables without Sir Gionbalt’s permission?”
“If you aim to open the Emperor’s treasure vault, you’ll need these to earn the dwarves’ trust. They’re valuable in their own right, of course, but Sir Gionbalt isn’t that rigid. You know that.”
“You shattered his middle finger with your axe-spear. Not much rigidity left.”
“Haha, true enough. It might be late to say this now, but Sir Gionbalt will make an excellent count. A far greater ruler than his father.”
Brand, who had once tried to kill Gionbalt himself, now spoke highly of him.
“I agree. Still, I’ll consult Sir Gionbalt before taking them.”
“You’re doing the right thing.”
“More importantly, what will you do now, Sir Brand?”
“I’ll stay here, assist Sir Gionbalt, hold funerals for my children, and search for any bloodkin who might have survived and fled.”
With that, Brand deeply bowed to Azadin in gratitude.
“Azadin of the Herald Clan. I can’t thank you enough, time and again. In my madness, whether it was a madman’s delusion or a prophecy from the spirits of insanity, I saw you become a knight among knights—a great hero revered by all.”
“…”
A madman’s prophecy. It was a common superstition that the ravings of the insane inevitably came true. Prophecies of the era of Jupiter, muttered by lunatics, were feared for the same reason.
By the canons of the King’s Church, those who spoke of the era of Jupiter were executed. In practice, though, such executions rarely happened, for people believed harming a mad prophet brought calamity.
And now, Brand—in the throes of madness—had prophesied that Azadin would become a great hero?
“A hero, huh?”
Azadin gave a wry smile.
“I only know it came to me in delirium, so I can’t say if it was fantasy or foresight. But may all the angels bless your path. I wish you everlasting fortune…”
Brand bowed deeply once more, sincerely thanking Azadin.
*********
“For some reason, it feels like I’m being used however it suits everyone else.”
Shati was casting regeneration magic on Gionbalt’s arm, splinting it to immobilize the limb.
“Ugh… It tickles like crazy.”
“Don’t scratch. It’ll bleed. Bones itch during healing—scratching the skin won’t help. I’ll wrap it thicker. Warm-blooded creatures with no regen, whining over a broken bone.”
“Urgh. Any chance you’d consider staying in Lantaric?”
“What, treating me like some healing potion? Take better care of yourselves. I need to go. This is Kurt Clan magic. Even if the Kurt Clan’s power is vast, shouldn’t the Yaegas Clan worshippers at least politely decline?”
“It’s not just that… You’ve got no more info to squeeze out of you, and the naga have branded you a traitor. Going back means nothing but suffering, right?”
“They’ll understand if I explain.”
“You think the naga are that forgiving?”
“…”
Shati knew full well her fate was hopelessly tangled. Without at least the New King’s Scripture copy—or more—she’d never be forgiven.
‘No, to begin with, I let that guy steal the New King’s Scripture from me. At least three sheets—no, more…’
Just then, Azadin emerged from the study.
“Shati. Treatment done?”
“Yeah. He’ll be stuck like this for about two weeks, but compared to you warm-bloods’ glacial natural healing, he should be grateful.”
“That’s what she says. Well then, farewell, Count Lantaric.”
“Where are you headed?”
“Arael’s group took the key, so I need to report back. Return to the clan, meet higher-ups, talk it over. If possible, lift the curse of servitude.”
“You sure that’ll work?”
“I’d bet on it.”
“Huh?”
“She tempted me with the promise of lifting the curse. Unless the council is dumb enough to keep wielding it as a weapon, they won’t be that stupid.”
Gionbalt was stunned by Azadin’s words.
‘It’s possible, sure, but it’s his own life on the line. To be this certain on speculation alone… Is he just that extraordinary? His martial prowess is impressive, but his real strength is this courage and mind. The Herald Clan is terrifying.’
“Oh, and I forgot to mention: we found dwarven treasures in your father’s study. Professor Brand said it’s fine to take them, but I figured I should check with you.”
“Take them.”
“I haven’t even said what they are.”
“What you’ve done for me goes beyond saving my life. What wouldn’t I give? If Sir Brand says you need them, then you do.”
“Thanks… No, consider it a loan. I’ll return them someday.”
“Haha. Then I’ll wait. In the meantime, I’ll shelter the famine-stricken Salasma folk and war refugees. With your help securing the countship of Lantaric, I must become a ruler beyond reproach—one Emperor’s Herald Azadin won’t find repulsive.”
“You don’t have to…”
Gionbalt’s resolve made Azadin feel ashamed of himself instead.
*********
As the sun set, lanterns lit up Lantaric.
The city, as prosperous as Salasma if not more so economically, buzzed with anticipation for its new count.
“Sir Gionbalt? Isn’t he kinda ugly?”
“I heard he’s a dunce.”
“Prince Adler was handsome, though.”
To commoners, nobles were just gossip fodder for their flashy clothes and looks. In that sense, people favored Adler over Gionbalt.
Azadin overheard the chatter from a tavern and gave a wry smile.
“Judging the one who’ll shape their fate by looks alone.”
“They’ve had little reason to expect better from nobles so far.”
Zebek, a holy knight of the King’s Church, said it instead.
It was odd coming from a King’s Church member, taught that Yaegas Clan blood ruled the world by right, now critiquing noble conduct. Not the words of a devout holy knight.
Had Sir Zebek’s sentiments changed?