chapter 10: A Fant
1. The Inner Chamber of the Carbonihar Kingdom
The sun rose over the wide fields. The snow that had fallen in winter melted to welcome the spring, and the rain that had ridden the wind the night before had ceased. The earth took on a brownish hue. The scent of soil spread thickly as sprouts poked their heads out here and there.
Dozens of round tents, called Ger or yurts, stood upon such a field. As the leather of the tents began to groan, people emerged one by one. They checked to see if their leather goods had disappeared overnight, then felt the sweat bead beneath their layered coats.
Here in Dithmarschen, winter and spring had long been one and the same. Recently, however, the boundary between them had become distinct. It was the cycle when the flow of Mana found its stability.
The cause of the disasters that had wielded nature at a whim was subsiding. The people of the Bard tribe praised the mercy of their god and offered prayers.
Among them, a girl holding a basin headed toward one of the tents.
The girl was the daughter of the tribe's chief. Aside from her sharp eyes, which she took from her father, she was no different from any other nine-year-old girl. And lately, the girl had been caring for a peculiar person.
'He's still sleeping.'
The man lay alone on the bed.
When she opened the door, sunlight streamed in and fell upon his face, yet he remained lost in a deep sleep, unmoving. The girl placed the basin by the bed and observed him.
......
His skin was pale and bloodless, and his black hair was disheveled like a lion's mane. A life spent outdoors was bound to tan the skin and create wrinkles, yet he looked like some pampered young master.
But he was neither a young man nor a young master.
He was the Lord of Dithmarschen, Ulrich.
The adults of the Bard tribe called him by various names. Ulrich, Lord, Master, and Elder. The girl understood the first three titles, but she couldn't understand the title of Elder.
Why would they call someone younger than her father that?
The girl's father had told his daughter that he was a man who had lived for a very long time. The adults said that even when they were the girl's age, he had looked exactly the same as he did now. It was hard to believe.
The girl was eight years old. She was at an age where she could not fully comprehend that time makes people old. Likewise, she could not fully comprehend the fact that a person who had lived longer than anyone could have such a youthful appearance.
'A strange person.'
Therefore, to the girl, he was a peculiar person.
And the peculiar person was lost in a deep sleep.
'A strange person.'
Therefore, to the girl, he was a peculiar person.
It was not just a deep sleep. Nor was it the kind that lasts for a day or two. It was a slumber so deep that after three days turned into a week, she began to worry that the man called Elder might be under a curse or afflicted by some disease.
But the adults of the tribe seemed to care little how deeply the Elder slept. In response to the girl's worried questions, her father had said, 'He will wake when the time comes.'
He added, 'This isn't the first time the Elder has slept so deeply. The deepest he ever slept, he didn't wake until the following winter.'
This, too, the girl could not understand.
But what could she do? The adults said it was so.
After the Elder had departed for the land of dreams, the girl entered his chambers every morning during prayer time to clean and wipe his face.
At first, she worried, 'What if I wake him?' But the Elder didn't even stir. The girl's father was so sensitive he would wake at the sound of a wolf's steps even inside a Ger, but the Elder lay there without so much as a change in his breathing, no matter what the girl did.
She had even placed a hand under his nose.
After wiping his face, she would always gently place her index finger under his nose to check if he was breathing properly. A faint, very faint breath would be felt, and each time, the girl would leave the chambers with a sense of relief.
But today, this moment was different.
"Huh?"
The moment her finger touched his skin, he opened his eyes.
"Oh?"
Their gazes met. As the Elder's black eyes looked up at the girl, she froze, her index finger still under his nose. Staring down at him, the corners of her mouth began to tremble.
'Did I wake him? Did he wake up because of me?'
A sudden wave of worry washed over her. She had only done it out of concern for the Elder; she had no other intention. She opened her mouth to make an excuse, but the words wouldn't come out. She was afraid she would be scolded.
"I'm thirsty."
He spoke as the girl's expression was about to crumple into tears.
"I-I'll go get some right away!"
Like someone who had discovered a light at the end of a long, dark cave, the girl quickly turned and ran out of the Ger. Her cry of 'Papaaaa!' followed.
'The weather is warm.'
Ulrich thought, right after the girl had left.
He lay still on the bed, looking up at the ceiling.
It wasn't the color and shape he was used to seeing. His bedchamber was built of gray stone, but what he saw now was a yellowish fabric. For some reason? He blinked a couple of times. Then, his memory spoke. This was not the Lord's manor, but the dwelling of a tribe; he was inside a circular tent, a Ger, set up for him by a tribe called the Bard.
A warm breeze blew through the slightly open door of the Ger.
It wasn't the color and shape he was used to seeing. His bedchamber was built of gray stone, but what he saw now was a yellowish fabric. For some reason? He blinked a couple of times.
A warm breeze blew through the slightly open door of the Ger.
'Has winter passed?'
His memories were jumbled for a moment, the dregs of sleep still lingering after just waking. He couldn't recall the dream he'd had, but his spirits were high. It seemed he'd had a pleasant dream.
He raised a hand and covered his face.
"I'm fine. I'm fine."
He had fallen asleep toward the end of winter.
After finishing the village hunt, he had stopped by the Bard tribe to rest when he was suddenly struck by a sense of ennui. It happens sometimes when you live for a long time. A moment when life feels so familiar that the familiarity turns into boredom.
When that time came, he would fall into a deep sleep. Just as a bear enters hibernation to survive a winter without food, he too would sometimes fall into a deep sleep because life was what it was.
He never set a duration. There were times he had slept for decades on end.
For an ordinary person, it would be an act of throwing time away. But it was fine for him. Because he didn't die, nor did he age. He possessed so much time that even dragons would ask him if he lived forever.
This was his way of escaping boredom.
"You've awoken."
As he was lost in such thoughts, the girl returned with two people.
"The weather is lovely, Kurt."
"Indeed. It is truly spring."
Kurt, the chief of the tribe and the girl's father, smiled and greeted him with his eyes. In that expression, Ulrich was reminded of an elder named Brase. Brase was Kurt's father, and he had died last winter.
The last time he had seen Brase was last summer. He had seen the shadow of death on the old man's face, so he had returned the item the man had entrusted to him in his youth. It was like a grim prophecy, but the old man had simply said one thing. Thank you.
Now the old man was gone, and his fourth son stood in his place.
Traces of Brase were in Kurt. The two were different beings, yet they were connected somehow as they stood before him. It was a sensation he had seen and felt too many times.
......
Ulrich sat up and asked.
"How long was I asleep?"
"You've slept for a little over a month."
"This time was quite short," Kurt added.
'This time? Ah, right.'
A memory suddenly surfaced.
'I saw him thirty years ago, too.'
"Do you remember? I served as your page in the evenings."
About thirty years ago, before Kurt was even ten, there was a time he had stayed at the Lord's manor as a page and received Ulrich's teachings. If his memory served him right, Ulrich had fallen asleep in the summer and woken up the following winter. It was the first time he had slept so long while serving as the Lord of Dithmarschen, and it had caused quite a commotion.
"Compared to then, it's not even a tenth of the time."
Kurt smiled.
"I see. Compared to then, you're right." Ulrich smiled back, nodding, and looked at the Priestess standing next to Kurt. "Did you hear that, Roberta?"
"Compared to then, it's not even a tenth of the time."
Kurt smiled.
"I see. Compared to then, you're right." Ulrich smiled back, nodding, and looked at the Priestess standing next to Kurt. "Did you hear that, Roberta?"
Roberta awkwardly scratched the back of her head.
"Yes... It seems I worried for nothing."
Her gaze flickered toward Kurt.
The young chief responded to her glance with a smiling look that said, 'See? I was right.' It seemed there had been a dispute over the question of whether Ulrich would wake on his own.
"I've never seen anyone sleep like you do, Lord."
"I hear that often. About other things, too."
Receiving a teacup from the girl, Ulrich asked Roberta.
"Did anything happen while I was gone?"
"Yes, there was. Something you could call an incident."
Ulrich felt a piercing gaze.
"Oh?"
It was her interest directed at him. She tried not to show it, but she couldn't fool him. He'd had this kind of experience more than once or twice. When people look at a creature they cannot comprehend, they get that observer's look in their eyes.
Roberta, the head priest of the Duchy of Dithmarschen.
Nearly a year had passed since her appointment. But her intense curiosity about him seemed to have remained. To her, he must have been a peculiar Lord, a being that shattered common sense itself.
She must have dug through the records and confirmed that he had lived for 300 years. With her own ears, she would have heard many claims that he had lived even longer than the records stated. With her own eyes, she had seen him perform the Infant Sacrament and had watched his wounds heal as they swallowed the blood they'd spilled.
It would be impossible for her not to be interested.
"While you were sleeping soundly, Yangju-nim, Sir Bernhardt handled his duties perfectly. So much so that the people of the domain didn't even know you were asleep."
He nodded at her jest.
"He is doing well. That boy has always done his part."
Ulrich took a sip of tea and continued.
"However, I wasn't asking about him, but about you. Bern is a boy I raised, so I have no worries about what he does out of my sight. But you? Roberta.
As head priest, have you been well?"
She averted her gaze.
â¢â¦Do you ask, knowing full well?
"I had hoped there might be some change, but it seems not."
Just as there was no progress in Roberta's interest in Ulrich, there was no progress in her management of the diocese as head priest.
Upon her appointment, she had to travel all over Dithmarschen to restore the diocese her predecessor had ruined. The diocese had briefly experienced a power vacuum due to the previous head priest's disappearance. No, that wasn't the right word for it.
In 16 years, the head priest had changed 13 times, and in the midst of it all, the temple had even burned to the ground. The relationship between the temple and its followers, which should have been built over generations, had been privately and publicly severed.
Come to think of it, her cheeks had thinned considerably.
"If you need help, speak up at once.
[MISSING]
Come to think of it, her cheeks had thinned considerably.
If you need help, speak up at once.
Roberta let out a short sigh.
It was a sigh that seemed to carry the weight of the burdens left by her predecessors.
"It's alright. This is something I must handle on my own."
Ulrich hummed, studying her.
"It seems you didn't come to see me because of the diocese." He narrowed his eyes. "For what reason did you seek me out? Did Bern, that boy, ask you to?"
"Yes. Sir Bernhardt asked me to speak with you, Lord. There is a guest."
"Tell me in detail:"
Roberta didn't answer right away, instead looking at Kurt. Sensing the signal to leave, he took the girl and exited the bedchamber. Only then did she begin to speak.
"Do you know about dragons?"
Dragons?
His head tilted at the unexpected name.
"The race with scales and wings. Dragons. Not monsters."
"Of course, I do. It would be strange not to."
"Have you seen one in person?"
"Of course. And not just in books or stories. I have seen many of them alive. They have very long lifespans. So if you were to list the beings I have a connection with in chronological order, they would be at the very, very top."
And he continued. Seeing her curiosity suddenly turn to the race of dragons, he surmised that a peculiar guest must have come and asked about them.
"Yes, that's right."
She nodded a couple of times.
"There is someone looking for a dragon. They say they need a guide."
"The reason? Why now? Did they say why they're looking for a dragon?"
At her reply that they wouldn't say, he furrowed his brow.
"I don't understand. Of all things, a dragon."
"Is there a problem?"
"Well."
Ulrich pondered for a moment before asking.
"Roberta, how much do you know about dragons?"
"About dragons⦠I don't know much. As you know, Lord, it's very rare for dragons to appear in the world in their true form."
That they were one of the races created by the gods when they resided in the Heavens. That after the gods of the Heavens departed, dragons would occasionally intervene in the world in human form. Roberta answered that what was written in the scriptures was all she knew.
Ulrich muttered, "I suppose so."
"Dragons have rarely shown themselves in history. The last time one left its name was in a bygone era. In the age you live in, dragons are nothing more than a mysterious race from fairy tales that appear in human form and then vanish. It's only natural to think of them that way."
He paused between each and every word.
As Ulrich began to speak, he felt memories from a past so distant he hadn't even realized he'd forgotten them welling up inside him.
They were truly ancient memories. A story so old that even the Dwarves and Elves had failed to carry it on in their recorded histories, a story that had been severed from time. Now, he was likely the only being who had experienced it, the only one who remembered that history.
He couldn't know how much these memories, diluted by oblivion, matched the facts of the past. He had to proceed cautiously, with each and every word.
For his words would be taken as historical fact, as a truth none could refute. He had no choice but to be cautious when testifying to an ancient past unknown to all others.
Now, he was likely the only being who remembered that history.
He couldn't know how much these memories, diluted by oblivion, matched the facts of the past. He had to proceed cautiously, with each and every word.
Because his words would be taken as historical fact, as a truth no one else could refute, when testifying to the old days that others did not know
"It's a pity. The flow of history is not one long, continuous line. So much of it has been lost. The Dwarves and Elves are remembered because they established their own ages, left long and deep footprints, and are still numerous today. But the dragons are being forgotten, without ever having had an age of their own."
Ulrich wrapped both hands around his teacup and looked down into it.
"Few people now know that the first intelligent beings were dragons. That a certain four-legged lizard was gifted with intelligence and a name, and that name was Luobeidra. That he was a wise and affectionate dragon."
0 Comments