The Distant Ruins of the Far Margraviate (1)

It felt a little… bitter.

The magical creature born almost as if copying my appearance, using my womb and ovaries and the information drawn from them, seemed to be living quite well beneath the halo of her creator and sponsor, Naixon, along with the intellect she had borrowed from me. So well, in fact, that her name had reached even these western frontiers where desolate plains stretched endlessly.

“I suppose… I’m rather famous. I hadn’t realized, since I’ve been shut away doing nothing but research in Lord Naixon’s laboratory.”

It was not entirely an excuse. Rin truly rarely stepped outside; she remained seated in the laboratory like a fixture. After all, the child had driven a slender pseudopod into my brain and transmitted her own memories and experiences directly.

“Of course. Anyone who isn’t an inexperienced virgin would have benefited from it at least once. Though given the nature of the medicine, it’s hardly something they can shout about in public.”

…That’s right.

From the moment of her creation, Rin’s purpose had been to refine contraceptive drugs. Since she was a hormonal compound obtained through vicious experiments performed on my body, it probably wasn’t all that different from the birth-control pills of Earth.

You must be making a fortune, Rin. Here I am, living like this. Still, thanks to that, I had gained a reliable sponsor willing to publish my Riaska encyclopedia, so the situation felt paradoxically fortunate. I had also obtained a convincing fake identification to present when I needed the Adventurers’ League’s assistance.

“But what brings you to Bestebene? Did you discover some rare plant or a monster suitable for extracting medicinal properties?”

I had to invent a reason why Rin—who almost never left the laboratory—would need to venture out. Bestebene, Bestebene… As ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠I repeated the name of the margraviate, fragments of knowledge from the Magic Academy drifted through my mind. Yes. There was that place.

It was not a location an alchemist would normally visit, but as a mage—and given the work I had done on Earth—it held a certain interest for me. It might invite suspicion, yet it was not a place I could visit often, so I decided to mention it at least once. Therefore…

“Could I obtain a map leading to the Plain’s Entrance?”

“The Plain’s Entrance, you say? But……”

I tilted my head. It was only a ruin; I wondered why he was hesitating so.

At the westernmost edge of the Bestebene Margraviate lay a colossal ruin that divided the plains of the nomadic ogre tribes from the settled humans and ogres of the Empire. The Magic Academy taught that it was among the oldest ruin sites in the entire Empire.

It might have seemed unrelated, but the lesson covering that ruin had been part of astronomy and astrology. Knowing modern Earth’s astronomy, I had been dissatisfied with the combination, yet I understood that without the daughter of astrology earning bread, the mother of astronomy would have starved. I could offer no complaint.

In this world where magic was cast by tearing space itself and psychic powers could glimpse the future, I lacked the confidence to declare astrology entirely false. Who could say whether some divine entity was not scattering objects that shone like satellites across the sky to watch over mortals?

The Plain’s Entrance had been built by the ancestors of the elves who floated aerial cities above the vast desert lying beyond our planet’s equator—farther south than Riaska and the southern jungles across the great river. It was an ancient ruin constructed in the distant past, before humans had appeared in the world, before the elves had even learned to dwell in the sky.

Standing at the center of the Plain’s Entrance and gazing east at dawn, one could watch the sun rise between the megalithic columns shaped like the ruin’s “gate.” There was the gate where the sun rose on the summer solstice, the gate for the winter solstice, and the gates for the vernal and autumnal equinoxes, along with rock arrangements believed to symbolize constellations.

Some theories claimed it was merely a structure for ritual or ceremony, while others insisted the constellation placements were secondary decorations and that the site was actually the remnant of a habitation. They added that the Imperial Palace in the capital had also been built in a perfect square aligned to the cardinal directions; if the capital ever fell to ruin, it would likely be remembered only as an ancient structure oriented to the four directions.

When I had first learned of it, I had looked at the illustrations and thought of Cheomseongdae and Stonehenge. Yet because it belonged to an ancient civilization with different constellations and a different species, the resemblance was not particularly strong.

“Is there some problem?”

“The Plain’s Entrance lies near the territory of the nomadic ogre tribes, so it isn’t entirely safe.”

I knew the delicate relationship between the ogre nomadic tribes and the Empire. It could not quite be called war, yet they had almost no history ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠of friendly attitudes toward the settled Empire.

If the ogres wished to cross the plains to reach trade routes with other human civilizations far to the west, they demanded enormous protection fees. It was commonplace for them to arbitrarily alter contracts and threaten to extract even more than the toll already paid.

Of course the Empire did not simply endure it. While striving to expand the territory of its settlers, the Empire employed every means in bloody conflict with the ogres. That was why the Bestebene Margraviate maintained such a massive army. Even so, the results in driving back ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the ogres had not been particularly impressive.

“But isn’t it inside Imperial territory? There must be ogres who have been incorporated as Imperial citizens……”

“Even if they are Imperial citizens, an ogre is still an ogre. Countless of them cannot break their nomadic habits, abandon a year’s farming, and wander off. Many favor other ogres over human Imperials. Above all, the western border of Bestebene bears no relation to what the maps claim. It shifts according to the whims of those large barbarians to the west.”

“I see.”

When my face fell at the less-than-encouraging reply, the branch chief asked, as if to console me.

“But aren’t you an alchemist, Lady Rin? Why would you wish to see that ominous pile of stones that only eccentric mages would care for?”

“Well……”

I tilted my head slightly, recalled a certain spell recorded in Master Viran’s book, and smiled sweetly.

“Let’s call it a visit to the ancestral grave. Or perhaps, grave-tending?”

In the end I received a map of the region near Bestebene’s western border. I was told—until my ears nearly fell off—that the western boundary of the margraviate was merely a provisional line drawn because they could not leave the map open.

‘Now that I have the map, I’ve come to the city after so long, and my pockets are full……’

Thinking so, I hopped up and down in place several times. The heavy, solid clink of tiny gold coins—different from the light jingle of silver or copper—was a sensation I had never felt before. It felt deeply satisfying, as though my heart had grown full. I continued until the passersby began to stare strangely, and then I stopped.

‘Hehe. Then shall I stop by a bookstore? And, if there is one, a magic-tool shop… Yes. I should also buy something delicious to eat.’

The place where I now stood—Latenear, capital of the Bestebene Margraviate—was far more bustling than the border-region image suggested. It could not be otherwise. Though they suffered constant threats, extortion, and plunder from the ogres, this was still the starting point of the western trade route.

All the produce of the Empire beyond the plains—no, every kind of good gathered from the dwarven mountain ranges and the eastern kingdoms—converged here. It was a place where one could find equal measures of wealth and opportunity.

Naturally, there was a bookstore. In a city of this size, such a shop was not difficult to locate.

Thinking of Bishop Lumina’s court library, I narrowed my eyes and breathed in the scent of books. My steps halted abruptly at one particular section.

‘That’s right. I am a mage, after all.’

Even so, the area held only introductory magic texts for the general public and simple guidebooks for students hoping to enter the Magic Academy. I picked up one introductory volume bearing Professor Apryon’s name and flipped through it lightly. Professor Apryon. I wondered whether he was still with Master Viran these days.

Come to think of it, it was strange. The Professor Apryon who had taught me magic for roughly six years remained simply “Professor Apryon” in my mind, yet the eccentric corpse-like old hag who had passed through my life for a single night and had even tried to kill me had become “Master Viran.”

“Mmm……”

‘Anyone with decent calculation ability could use this alone to cast a serviceable nighttime lighting spell. The theory is overly simplified, but for someone who never graduated from the Magic Academy and has no intention of enrolling, this level should be sufficient……’

Thanks to Bishop Lumina, I had been receiving and reading the Magic Academy’s biannual journals even in Riaska, so I had no trouble following newly developed spells, reinterpreted theories, or mathematics unrelated to magic itself.

I also possessed the book written by Viran, who had been a genius from the beginning and had added long years of effort. True to her nature as an archmage, its contents were not kind at all.

I had believed that, yet… Perhaps because I had remained secluded in Riaska, I had fallen behind on trends that could only be learned by wandering the world in person.

‘Still, in merely ten years, general-audience magic books have improved considerably. At this rate, even lighting the night may no longer be enough to earn a living.’

It was Professor Apryon’s new publication, so I wanted to buy it… but it would be of little use to me and would only increase the weight of my luggage. I had to restrain myself.

As I closed the book and turned my gaze toward another section of the store, one incredibly ominous-looking volume caught my eye. Ominous though it was, it was not some cursed grimoire; I sensed no particular magical power. Its cover looked as if woven from skulls, mud, and vines—bizarre, yet somehow familiar.

Drawn as if bewitched, I approached the book.

The extraordinarily thick volume bore the following title: