Chapter 17

Children of Luo beidra

Roberta lightly touched her parted lips as she thought about the owner of the tower. Aside from dwarves and fairies, there were far too many possible candidates.

According to the scriptures, when the King of Heaven, Dieus, built a bridge between heaven and earth, Keme, the Mother of Earth, was the first to set foot upon the land. After that, all the gods descended—including Nenus, who watches over the seas—and created their descendants.

Though the number of gods was small, their authority was magnificent, and under their great protection, countless forms of life were born. Among them were also the creations of the evil gods Kun'kan, Takna, and Galpa.

Still, things were fine while the gods remained in heaven. Even as the world filled with life and species mixed indiscriminately, heaven governed and harmonized all things. Even the creations aligned with the evil gods were embraced under heaven's order.

However, when the rulers of heaven disappeared, the beings of the earth turned all things into enemies, and countless lives perished.

Roberta guessed that the tower's owner was one of those extinct races. Since the species itself had vanished, even oral traditions had not survived. If it had been the past of a still-existing race, how could it have been forgotten?

Ulrich's answer was different.

"They were humans."

Roberta blinked, wondering if she had misheard.

"I mean that this tower was built by humans."

"You mean… humans from before recorded history?"

"Correct."

When speaking of history, humans mark its beginning with the founding of the first human empire. Thus, the time before our history encompasses the ages of gods, fairies, and dwarves.

Why is it grouped so vaguely?

Because humans left almost no records from that era. They were such an insignificant race that even dwarves and fairies paid them little mind.

Occasionally, a few heroes or myths were passed down and recorded, but as a civilization, almost nothing has survived to the present.

Roberta once more looked at the carved inscription and traced it with her fingers. It was merely a fragment of an ancient civilization—nothing more than a strange pattern to her. Even after carefully examining the inside of the tower, it was the same.

Without any knowledge of archaeology, how could she tell whether it had been made by humans or by some reptilian creature?

And yet—this tower was said to have been built by humans from before history?

"This was a place where humans once lived—those who, near the end of the dwarven age and the rise of the fairy age, sought to build a civilization of their own."

She wondered how he could possibly know such things.

Of course, even if she asked, the answer would be predictable—and its truth impossible to verify. Still, as always, she asked:

"This is something you witnessed yourself, isn't it?"

A strange glint flickered in Ulrich's eyes.

It lasted only a moment, but Roberta saw it.

"…Did I say something wrong?"

"No. I simply found it unexpected."

"Pardon?"

Ulrich stroked his chin with his left hand as he spoke.

"I thought you were asking because you believed my words. If I were to say yes to that question… how old do you think I would have to be?"

At least ten thousand years.

Roberta started to respond—"Ah… um…"—but closed her mouth instead. Seeing that, Ulrich gave a light chuckle and shook his head.

"Unfortunately, their destruction has nothing to do with me. I did not witness it. Much later, I heard the story passed down from their descendants."

The civilization Ulrich spoke of had been founded by a group of humans who sailed to an island and settled there. They had no king, and no hereditary class system. Instead, they formed assemblies in their cities and elected two leaders each year.

Each member had different talents and levels of achievement, yet they treated one another with respect and care. Ordinary people gathered their opinions to govern the state, and the strong respected those decisions.

Since the departure of the heavenly gods, the races of the earth had each asserted their own logic of power—becoming kings and lords. In such a world, this was something exceptional.

Ulrich had found it curious and asked them why.

And a descendant had answered:

—When the great beings of heaven created humans, who among us was born a king? Who was born of a lord's bloodline? Among us, only Hestio became a child of heaven—but does he rule over us now?

Ulrich gripped his teacup tightly and nodded.

"Is it not remarkable?"

"Yes… well, it is, I suppose."

Roberta could only offer an awkward smile.

A world without a king, where ordinary people elected their leaders—it did not resonate with her. She was someone of an age where serving the gods, the emperor, and the king was only natural.

The idea that someone stronger or of noble blood should follow the directives of an ordinary person felt unreal to her.

If she felt that way, how would Duke Vailen, a descendant of royalty, react?

Glancing at him, she saw his expression tighten slightly with displeasure. Yet, given who he was speaking to, he swallowed his words just as she had.

"In truth, there were many such civilizations before our history, not just this one. Humans of that era may have been physically weaker than other races, but they were more mature in spirit. Rather than beg for survival under the mercy of other races, they sought to stand on their own."

It sounded like praise—but did not feel like it, Roberta thought.

History itself proved otherwise. There was no human history before the empire.

The civilization Ulrich praised had perished in the distant past, and even its name had not been passed down. Today, the existence of prehistorical human civilizations was only speculation. No one knew where they had been, what they had done, or how they had fallen—and few even cared.

"But they failed. No matter how lofty their ideals, they amounted to little. Even if you gather dust, who will wait until it becomes a mountain? Every civilization perished at the moment of its birth."

That must be true, Roberta thought.

Some texts claimed that it had once been an age where a single individual could overturn mountains. Ulrich himself had said that fairies dragged an island and fused it with the mainland. In such an era, how could humans possibly survive easily?

Even if humans of that time respected others and acted rationally, other races would not have done the same. Why would they respect a weak species with which they shared no blood?

Unless it were an age overflowing with abundance and where life held immense value—but such an age had not come even today. The strong possessed more, and the weak served them.

"The scriptures praise Hestio as a gentle father who led humanity until just before human history began. But seen another way, does that not mean the name Hestio failed to open history?"

"That—"

Ulrich raised his hand, cutting off Roberta's words.

"This tower is the result. The end of a civilization built by Hestio's descendants. A gentle father created a family—but a family is too small a unit."

"..."

"Only after a very long time following the departure of the gods did humanity realize this. What that era required was not harmony, but unity—and not a gentle father, but a cold master."

She did not need to hear the rest.

It was explained in detail in the scriptures. Humanity had grown under Hestio's care and spread across the world, but as they each walked different paths, they met unjust ends.

It was said that Hestio grieved as countless of his descendants were slain and humanity itself faced extinction.

Thus, he gathered humans together in one place, forming them into a single group. And when the age of the fairies waned, that group chose one human as their ruler and built a civilization.

That was the first empire—the first emperor.

"I said it earlier. History appears only after countless failures, when success is finally achieved. Because people change through failure. Otherwise, they are simply eliminated."

Ulrich brushed the inscription as if caressing it.

"Civilizations before history are like this. To you, they may seem worthless today, but such failures left the name Hestio in the age before history—and gave birth to the emperor."

When he finished speaking, silence settled over the tower. As always, after hearing his words, there was nothing to do but wonder what one should even say. Roberta kept her mouth shut and quietly watched the campfire.

Roberta opened her eyes.

Light seeped through the cracks of the tower—it was morning. She lay still, staring at the ceiling, then shivered. Even after wearing multiple layers of winter clothing and wrapping herself in blankets, the cold still cut into her flesh.

Crackle, crackle—the sound of firewood burning made her turn her head. Ulrich sat in front of the campfire, holding a teacup in his right hand. As always, it was likely pine-flower tea.

'Really… I can't understand his taste.'

Ulrich did not seem to notice that Roberta was awake and watching him. As he drank his tea, he tossed more dry wood into the fire.

What could he be thinking about?

She wondered what thoughts occupied that old man with such a youthful appearance as he sat in silence. Perhaps he was considering the next story he would tell.

After watching him like that for a while, she raised her upper body.

"You're awake."

"Good morning… though I suppose that's not quite right, my lord?"

"Well, if you didn't have any nightmares, then it's a good morning."

Ulrich smiled gently and picked up another cup from the fire, handing it to her. Fortunately, it was not pine-flower tea—just plain water made by melting ice.

She would have preferred something slightly sweet, but she did not show it and drank to moisten her throat. As the warmth flowed down, the cold seemed to ease a little.

"Shall we wake the others?"

"Let them sleep a bit longer. There's no need to hurry now."

Roberta sat beside him, tilting her cup.

"You mean… we're almost there?"

"Yes. At the earliest, we'll arrive today."

"That's faster than I expected."

Today? She recalled the mountain that was their destination. Wasn't it still quite far? Even walking through the night at full speed, it had seemed like they wouldn't reach it.

Ulrich had never spoken nonsense. There must be another way. Trusting that, she smiled faintly. The thought that the end of their hardship was finally in sight eased her heart.

Of course, there was still the journey back—but that could be dealt with when the time came.

"Roberta, have you experienced a demonic realm before?"

"Yes. Sir Alonso once asked me to accompany him. But back then, it didn't feel as dangerous as this place. No, it was dangerous, but… how should I put it…"

"It wasn't dreadful."

"…Yes. That's right."

Roberta waited for Ulrich to continue, but he fell silent. Only the sound of the fire remained between them, and she fidgeted with the cup in her hands, feeling awkward.

"My lord, may I ask you something?"

"Don't mind me. Ask whenever you wish."

"How will this journey end?"

She asked in a cautious whisper, glancing around. The others were all fast asleep, so exhausted that even the cold could not wake them.

Ulrich added another piece of firewood to the flames.

"My thoughts have not changed."

Roberta lowered her gaze to her cup.

"But there are times when you must go, even knowing the outcome."

His words trailed off, and a long silence followed.

"..."

After a while, Ulrich turned his head.

Not toward her—but toward outside the tower.

Then a sound followed. A piercing scream—one that did not seem like it could come from a human throat.

Roberta sprang to her feet reflexively. The entire group woke up. This was the Ice Peninsula—a land even Emperor Tywin had failed to conquer. What reason could there be for such a sound here?

Following Ulrich, she armed herself and stepped outside.

The light was blinding. The cold wind still bit at them, but the sunlight reflected off the snow-covered plains, stabbing at their vision.

"Giants?"

In the distance, a group approached. There were only four of them, yet each was enormous, striding forward with wide steps.

They were giants—beings created by the evil god Takna when he still resided in heaven.

They wore stitched-together hides that seemed to belong to monsters, though their bodies were already covered in thick fur, making the clothing seem unnecessary. If they hunched over, one might mistake them for apes walking on two legs.

The group led by Duke Vailen stepped out and stood beside Ulrich. Drawing their swords, they prepared themselves, but Ulrich shook his head and motioned them back.

"Stay back. There's no need to fight."

He walked forward alone.

"Giants, as you can see, resemble apes walking on two legs. Their intelligence is low, but they are still a sentient race. That is why they do not indiscriminately eat humans like monsters—usually."

Before he even finished speaking, one of the giants swung its arm and hurled something.

Ulrich casually leaned to the side.

The next instant, a spear embedded itself into the ground where he had been standing. It looked to be made from the bones of a monster.

Roberta looked back and forth between the spear and Ulrich. He stood far ahead, his back turned, so she could not see his expression—but at some point, he had already taken a whip into his hand.

Letting the whip hang loosely, he said:

"Of course, there are always exceptions—brutes like these."

One of the giants let out a roar and charged.

Though the ground was thick with snow, its steps were not crunch, crunch but thud, thud. Truly, as a creation of the evil god Takna, it retained the very form described in myths.

From afar, it had only seemed vaguely large—but standing before Ulrich, the giant was twice his height. Roberta felt a sense of pressure at the sight.

As soon as the giant entered the range of his whip, Ulrich extended his right arm and swung it wide. The whip wrapped around the giant's right ankle, and with a pull, it fell helplessly to the ground.

Lying on the snow, the giant did not get up. The fierce spirit it had moments ago vanished like an illusion, replaced with confusion on its bearded face. Then, as if recalling something, it moved its lips awkwardly.

Ulrich cracked the whip sharply against the ground.

"Do you remember now?"

The giant shrank back, speaking clumsily:

"Human… king… hit me."

"Bring Uar. Tell him I will be waiting here."

With another crack of the whip, the giant panicked and fled. Watching its retreat—so mismatched with its size—Roberta made a baffled expression.

"You're not going to pursue it?"

"It may be foolish, but it is not evil."

Ulrich coiled the whip as he added:

"We're almost there. They'll guide us the rest of the way."