Chapter 12.2, Year 959 of Chronicle of Truth, The Third Month of Azure Water Season (2/2)

Translator: Lizz

 

“Ugh… So cold, so cold, so cold.”

 

On a night when winter’s chill had intensified, when Zechs visited Aster in his room, Aster greeted him curled up under a blanket that completely covered his head. The room featured a grand fireplace, unlike other private rooms, but the space was so vast that it didn’t warm up very well. Still, it was better than Zechs’ room.

 

“Is it really that cold?”

 

“It is! There must be something wrong with you.”

 

“Well, it’s not like I can help it. Winters in Lille are even harsher, you know.”

 

“…I don’t think I could survive in the northern towns.”

 

“There’s no need for that anyway.”

 

While it wasn’t entirely impossible that missions might require it, as a member of the Iron Fortress, Aster would almost certainly never have to live outside Rhiannon.

 

“It’s so cold. Ugh, my back is shivering…”

 

As Aster shuddered and spoke, Zechs had a bad hunch. He silently placed his hand on Aster’s refined face, where a stream of snot was running.

 

“…You have a fever.”

 

“What?”

 

No wonder he felt so cold. While Zechs hands and cheeks were freezing from the chill, Aster’s forehead was abnormally hot. Upon closer inspection, there was no strength in his gaze either.

 

“I-I thought I was feeling a bit wobbly for some reason.”

 

Saying so, Aster wobbled towards the bed.

 

Why hadn’t he realized it sooner, despite it being his own body? With a sigh of exasperation, Zechs stepped into the room and added more firewood to the fireplace.

 

“You did have dinner, right?”

 

“Yeah…”

 

“If you still have an appetite, you should be fine. Just get into bed. I’ll go to the infirmary to fetch some medicine.”

 

After confirming that his friend obediently followed his instruction, Zechs left the room. He explained the situation at the infirmary and obtained some medicine, then stopped by his own room to grab one of his two blankets.

 

Returning to Aster’s room, he added the extra blanket over him and went to fetch some water. He soaked a towel in cold water, wrung it out thoroughly, and placed it on Aster’s feverish forehead. He then set a kettle on the fireplace, which was burning more strongly than before. Once the water boiled, he would need to dissolve the medicine in it and make Aster drink it. Brewing some warm tea might be a good idea as well.

 

“Are you used to this?”

 

“Used to what?”

 

“Taking care of someone.”

 

Aster, wrapped in the blanket, asked the question without any sign of wanting to sleep. If it were truly unbearable, he would surely want nothing more than to sleep. Since that wasn’t the case, it likely wasn’t too severe. From experience, Zechs deduced it was just a common cold rather than some peculiar illness.

 

In response to the question, Zechs slowly blinked, as if trying to dig through his memories.

 

“…This is my first time taking care of someone. I’m more accustomed to being the one cared for.”

 

He unconsciously let out a small smile as he replied.

 

While he didn’t recall being particularly frail as a child (though his memories of those times weren’t very clear), during his first two or three years in Lille, he seemed to always fall ill during the change of seasons. Whether it was a fever or an upset stomach, it was Leon who quietly took care of him. Leon’s healing magic seemed effective for external injuries but apparently couldn’t address internal imbalances. Leon would insist on keeping his body warm and sleeping, forcing him to drink warm herbal teas that were murderously bitter.

 

He remembered especially struggling during the winters. Lille, located in the north and exposed to the winds descending from the Sera Mountains, faced harsh winters. Leon’s home, which originally had been a hunter’s lodge, had many drafts, and always felt cold. Once – it had been his first winter in Lille – he had such a severe fever that even Leon, who was usually composed, panicked. Calling for a doctor wasn’t easy; the nearest village with a doctor was a half-day’s walk away. Even after going through such efforts, the doctor was often absent, having been summoned elsewhere. Thus, in Lille, people relied heavily on folk remedies and strongly embraced the mindset of self-reliance.

 

That time, Leon gathered all the blankets and clothes in the house in front of the fireplace and laid Zechs, whose fever wouldn’t go down, there. He held him close the entire night. Zechs still remembers the look of relief on Leon’s exhausted face when, by morning, he confirmed that the fever had finally subsided.

 

As Zechs grew, not only did his body become bigger, but it also became sturdier. He stopped falling ill during the season changes and no longer needed to be cared for. What he could never quite understand, though, was how Leon, despite living an almost recklessly unhealthy lifestyle, never got sick himself. As a result, Zechs never had the chance to take care of Leon in return.

 

Suddenly, a fleeting anxiety crossed his mind – was Leon doing well? He was a man who never so much as caught a cold, but he was more than ten years older than Zechs and had a bit of a careless side. Perhaps he might’ve even caused a fire by accident.

 

Even if he wanted to contact Leon, writing letters was an unbearably laborious task for Zechs, and reading a reply would be just as much of a struggle. Not to mention, that was assuming Leon would even send a reply in the first place.

 

“Ah, I see. Zechs, you were a live-in apprentice, weren’t you? I’m a little jealous.”

 

“Jealous of a live-in apprentice?”

 

“No, not that… I mean your relationship with your Master. I had various mages come and teach me one after another. They were all amazing mages, but I never formed a deep connection with any one of them. It seems to me that you and your Master share a deep bond, and I’m jealous of that.”

 

(A bond? …Is that really the case?)

 

Zechs wondered if Leon still thought of him as his apprentice. When he recalled their last interaction, he wasn’t so sure.

 

Zechs couldn’t bring himself to forgive what Leon had done, and he still felt some lingering anger. However, with the passage of time, that anger had started to fade into the distance. Now, he found himself reflecting with some regret, thinking he should have listened to Leon a bit more.

 

“Zechs, you said you wanted to establish yourself here, right?”

 

Aster suddenly spoke, snapping Zechs out of his thoughts.

 

Zechs had confessed to Aster – the only person he had revealed this to – that he couldn’t read. It was tough to deal with situations where reading was unavoidable without anyone’s help. Yet, for some reason, he felt that he could trust Aster with this. During that conversation, Zechs also shared his goal: he desired power and status that would make it impossible for anyone to look down on him or pressure him.

 

Recalling that moment, Zechs nodded.

 

“I’ve mentioned before, but to rise through the ranks here, you’d need the favor of someone who already holds a certain degree of status. It’s nearly impossible otherwise.”

 

Aster, with an unusually serious expression, said.

 

“The first step is to find a Master with influence. With your abilities, I think there are quite a few mages who would take you on as their apprentice.”

 

“I’m from Seldia, you know.”

 

“Even factoring that in, you’re skilled enough that there are mages who’d want you as an apprentice.”

 

Ignoring Zechs’ self-deprecating words, Aster looked up at him directly. His gaze seemed to say, ‘You know that’s true’.

 

Zechs unconsciously fell silent. Indeed, recently there had been mages who hinted at such things. He had taken them as half-jokes, but maybe they weren’t. From Zechs’ perspective, however, he could never respect those people, people who once mocked him for being of a different ethnicity but would easily change their tune if they thought it benefited them.

 

“In terms of ability, you’re on par with the Professors… No, probably even beyond them. That strength of yours will one day become a threat. Everyone likely understands this and wants to bring you to their side while they still can.”

 

“…You’re saying I should become someone’s apprentice?”

 

Aster briefly grimaced with discomfort at the question but then gave the faintest nod.

 

“That’s right. If you truly wish to rise to the top, it’s essential. If you’re unsure whom to choose as a Master, you should consult with Lord Lambert.”

 

It wasn’t the first time Aster casually mentioned the name of the highest-ranking authority. Although he didn’t speak much about it, Aster seemed to have a deep connection with Lambert.

 

“Yes… I want to rise to the top for real. I want to become a mage with such undeniable power that no one can overlook or look down on me.”

 

As he spoke those words, memories of his life so far naturally resurfaced in his mind.

 

The first memory was of his family being slaughtered. He couldn’t recall where it happened, perhaps because he was too young to understand geography at the time. Somewhere deep in the mountains, the sound of countless footsteps echoed in the darkness, accompanied by ear-piercing screams from all around. That was all that remained in his ears. In his eyes, however, were the flames of torches, the glinting of swords cutting down his family and loved ones one after another, the spray of blood from their bodies… and the banner of the Lavarta Knights fluttering in the chaos. Every time those sounds and images surfaced in his mind, even briefly, it felt as though his throat was being squeezed shut, leaving him unable to breathe or think. His mind was consumed by the sheer terror of remembering more.

 

With those horrifying memories sealed away, Zechs was passed around from one orphanage to another. He was constantly bullied and subjected to baseless contempt for being Seldian. Once it was discovered that he had a guiding vein, fear and avoidance were added to the mix. He was called a dirty monster. It was no different in Lille.

 

Each time such a thing happened, an indescribable anger and hatred swirled within Zechs. ‘One day, I’ll make all of you regret this’, he roared silently in his heart. That had been Zechs’ purpose in life. And even now, that hadn’t changed. But that wasn’t the only thing driving him.

 

“In that case…”

 

“But my Master is Leon Varden and him alone. That’s non-negotiable.”

 

Zechs wished to attain status also to overturn the judgment cast upon Leon. To take on another Master for the sake of rising in rank would defeat the entire purpose. Besides, Zechs couldn’t imagine being able to love and respect anyone other than Leon.

 

Just as Aster opened his mouth to say something, Zechs cut him off.

 

“Besides, I hate the nobles. There’s no way I’m going to stoop to their level to achieve my goals.”

 

Aster seemed lost in thought for a while, but eventually, he smiled softly.

 

“I see. I agree with that sentiment.”

 

Zechs interpreted Aster’s blank gaze toward the ceiling as a sign of drowsiness and fell silent himself. It was likely just a common cold, nothing to be too worried about, but Zechs intended to stay by his side until he fell asleep, just as someone else once had done for him, giving him a sense of comfort.

 

“I haven’t told you what I want yet.”

 

“Hm?”

 

The small, unclear voice broke the silence. At first, Zechs thought it might be delirium, but when he leaned over, Aster’s striking green eyes were fully open and steady.

 

“Zechs, if you wish to gain power, I’ll help you. In return, I’d like you to help me as well. Of course, only if you’re willing.”

 

“I thought that between friends, deals weren’t necessary.”

 

Zechs replied, half-jokingly. Aster gave a small smile.

 

“That’s true. I’ll help you because I want to. But if you agree, I’d like you to help me, too.”

 

“And what is it that you want?”

 

It was clear that Aster had no desire for status; There was no power he could wish for in the first place. Yet, unlike other noble scions in the same situation, those who had been sent to the Iron Fortress as a way to be rid of them despite their lack of ability, Aster did not wear the face of decadence and resignation. His eyes were always filled with vitality.

 

“Zechs, do you know why mages are so despised in this country?”

 

“Because they’re considered tainted beings, aren’t they?”

 

The region of Lavarta and its surrounding areas was once referred to by the ancient name of Sailamabad. Within this region, there existed an old tale known as the Sailamabad Epic, a story of mages and the monsters they fought.

 

Roughly 1500 to 1000 years ago, Sailamabad was governed as a vast, singular nation, a kingdom ruled by mages of immense power, including the king. The Sailamabad Epic was a grand tale chronicling the deeds of the kings, the mages, knights, and the rise and fall of the kingdom.

 

The era when mages flourished, the age of the Magic Kingdom, was, until a few decades ago, only vaguely recognized as something that existed in the distant past. In Lavarta, where mages were thoroughly treated with contempt, remembering the era of the Magic Kingdom was considered a kind of taboo. Ironically, this perspective shifted because scholars from the neighboring country of Ermine, where mages had long since disappeared, decided to preserve historical records. These scholars gathered accounts of the wise kings and brave knights who had thrived during the Magic Kingdom era and compiled them into a grand epic. The sections that highlighted the fairness and wisdom of the kings were met with admiration, while the adventurous tales of the knights thrilled everyone. This epic quickly spread to neighboring countries and became widely known.

 

In the epic, mages were depicted as the only ones capable of destroying the so-called ‘monsters’, beings that brought harm to humans. These ‘monsters’ were said to originate from impurities, a kind of stagnation in the magic vein. The magic used to slay them was also considered a tainted and wicked art. Thus, mages themselves were seen as tainted beings. The truth, however, was unclear. During that era, mages were supposedly deeply integrated into the core of the kingdom; it was unlikely that they were universally regarded as tainted beings by the people, but the epic remained ambiguous on this point.

 

In the end, it was said that the kingdom fell due to the excessive use of magic, and mages were deemed one of the causes of its collapse. After the kingdom’s downfall, the eastern region of the fallen nation, centered around present-day Ermine, banned the use and study of magic. In the western regions, including Lavarta and Shale, mages faced severe persecution and strict control under state authority.

 

This history played a significant role in making mages the lowest-ranked and most despised group in Lavarta.

 

“That’s right. But don’t you think it’s strange? They were once heroic beings who saved people from the suffering caused by ‘monsters’. Well, we don’t really know what those ‘monsters’ refer to, but at least from reading the epic, mages appeared to be good people. There’s no reason for them to be despised.”

 

Aster paused briefly, then spoke with renewed determination.

 

“I want to eliminate prejudice against mages.”

 

It was a quiet but resolute statement, almost as if he was reaffirming it to himself.

 

Zechs found points in Aster’s opinion he could agree with. Whether they were truly heroes or not, it was odd that mages were unilaterally blamed for a kingdom’s fall without any evidence and subsequently hated.

 

At the same time, Zechs thought it was no longer a matter of reasoning. The initial dislike of mages may have stemmed from historical events, but modern people, unless they were mages or scholars, didn’t even study the Sailamabad Epic. The hatred of mages had become unconsciously ingrained, independent of the past. And unconscious biases are not easily overturned by logic.

 

“You probably think it’s impossible.”

 

Aster said, hitting the mark. Zechs responded with a vaguely bitter smile. That was his honest feeling, but at the same time, he also had a desire not to give up.

 

“I think so too. I can’t think of any way to achieve it. If I had to suggest something, maybe forcing the King to issue an edict… One that mandates mages must be treated equally.”

 

Aster spoke with a self-deprecating laugh. A royal edict was a privilege of the king, something that could be issued without being influenced by the opinions of vassals. Once declared, it was absolute and had to be followed. However, issuing such an edict would come at the cost of the trust of many nobles and commoners. Even Zechs knew it wasn’t something easily done.

 

“Even so… I dream of a world where mages can live without having their dignity hurt, where they are treated as human beings just like anyone else.”

 

Aster’s voice carried not only a wish but also a deep determination. Zechs suddenly felt an intuitive certainty: This friend of his was completely serious and would never waver in his resolve.

 

“Yeah, I wish for that too.”

 

Zechs said earnestly. He couldn’t imagine such a world, but he believed that was how things should be.

 

“I’ll fight for it, even if I have to risk my life. No matter the sacrifice, I’ll strive for an ideal world…”

 

Abruptly, Aster’s voice began to falter. When Zechs glanced down, he realized that Aster’s eyelids had dropped at some point. He couldn’t tell when exactly it had happened. Perhaps even as they were speaking, Aster had been in a half-dreamlike state. Perhaps that was why he had been so forthcoming with his true feelings.

 

Zechs brought a chair to the bedside, sitting silently as he gazed at the fire in the hearth. He stayed there until the sound of Aster’s breathing evened out peacefully in sleep.