Chapter 18, Year 960 of Chronicles of Truth, The Third Month of Crimson Blossom Season

Translator: Lizz

 

Even the scorching summer sunlight wasn’t so unbearable once you were under the shade of the trees. Besides, in Lille, located in northern Lavarta, even in the height of summer a cool breeze sometimes drifted down from the hills, cooling off a flushed body. But now, the wind she usually looked forward to seemed tinged with the smell of blood and smoke, and somehow she couldn’t welcome it so innocently. In fact, the usual breeze didn’t seem nearly enough to calm the flames of anger welling up from deep within her chest.

 

Nia stormed down the familiar road with the force of someone trying to stomp right through the earth. Her steps, each one heavy with anger, seemed loud enough to echo with a thud-thud sound, completely unbefitting a girl her age.

 

Though she walked in the shade, sweat dripped from her forehead. Wiping away the drops before they could get into her eyes, Nia dove through the rusted, left-open double doors.

 

“Leon, are you here?”

 

Sure enough, the figure she was seeking was there, right before her eyes. But at the sight of him, Nia was struck speechless. The fury that had been raging inside her just moments ago vanished in an instant.

 

The hut was tidy… Or rather, it had reached the point of being downright barren. There was hardly anything left. Of course, it had always been like that to some extent. After all, it was the home of a single man who paid little attention to his surroundings; a clutter of everyday items would have felt out of place. Still, the owner had always possessed an abundance of books that reflected his profession, strewn about in every corner of the house. And now, they were gone.

 

“What’s wrong, Nia?”

 

Leon turned around, startled by Nia’s forceful entrance. He wasn’t in his usual attire that looked thrown together just for the sake of being clothed; instead, he was dressed for travel, right down to the neatly tied laces on his boots. Beside him sat a small leather shoulder bag.

 

A bad feeling ran through Nia’s chest.

 

Without a word, she stepped into the house and bolted toward the small rooms in the back. Leon was saying something behind her, but she didn’t pay him any attention.

 

One of the two back rooms should’ve been a bedroom, and the other a study. But the room that was supposed to be the study was now completely bare, save for the wooden frames and shelves of the bookcases.

 

“Leon, what is this about?”

 

The magic books were practically Leon’s only real possession, and it was what he treasured most in the house. Nia didn’t really understand magic, but she understood his passion.

 

“What happened to the magic books?”

 

Leon looked sheepish and shrugged his shoulders.

 

“The things I absolutely couldn’t part with are in here.”

 

He gestured to the small bag placed on the floor. At most, it could hold two or three books.

 

“And the rest?”

 

“I sent them to my Master.”

 

Nia didn’t know Leon’s Master personally. The woman had lived in the village before Nia’s family moved to Lille, likely even before Nia was born or when she was just a baby. But she had heard about her: how Leon revered her, and that she had been a remarkable mage.

 

“She’s in Weil, right…?”

 

“That’s right. I just couldn’t bring myself to throw them away. I figured she’d take good care of them.”

 

“Why would you have to do something like that!”

 

Nia shouted before she could stop herself, but she already knew the answer. The nearly empty house, with only the large furniture remaining, and the travel clothes told the whole story.

 

“You’re leaving Lille, aren’t you.”

 

Leon gave a wry smile, perhaps because Nia’s tone had unknowingly turned accusatory. But that smile was an answer in itself.

 

Though stunned, Nia realized she’d already sensed this outcome. There was no other path forward.

 

What had driven her to storm over here in fury was something she overheard: the hushed but heated conversations of the village adults.

 

With news of additional conscriptions and taxes, a tense atmosphere had settled over Lille. Unlike the southern towns, this village was dangerously close to the front lines; an indescribable fear had clung to the villagers. Only recently, there were rumors that a town beyond Daza had been attacked – whether by rebel forces or bandits was unclear – and suffered heavy losses.

 

Gripped by anxiety, people looked for a place to vent their frustrations. And in Lille, there was an all-too-convenient target. The adults, without the slightest restraint, hurled baseless slander at him.

 

“I heard about mages being driven out of towns elsewhere. Leaving really is the safest option.”

 

Leon said it in a joking tone, but Nia could tell he was deliberately downplaying the truth. She’d heard similar stories about mages being expelled from towns, but those were the better outcomes. In the worst cases, they’d had their homes set ablaze, or been subjected to violent mob justice.

 

Nia absolutely didn’t want that kind of fate to befall Leon. But if the villagers lost control, the same horrors could unfold here in Lille.

 

They all knew Leon had once had a young apprentice, a boy who’d stirred up plenty of trouble in this village. That same boy had since joined the rebel forces. And now, he was exalted as some Arch Mage, even feared by the Lavarta army itself.

 

The villagers had turned their fear of him into anger, and that anger was now directed at his Master, Leon.

 

“If only Old Orga were still around…”

 

Orga, the village elder whom everyone respected, had passed away during the winter. It had been due to old age, a peaceful end. Leon had been given special permission by Orga’s wife to attend the funeral and see his face one last time, a face so calm it brought comfort.

 

Yet even if he had lived, there would have been little he could do. The simmering unrest in people’s hearts had already swelled into a powerful, uncontrollable force, something no one person could quell.

 

“Well… it is what it is.”

 

From Leon’s perspective, the people of Lille had shown remarkable restraint. In truth, he’d expected them to come after him immediately after it was revealed that Zechs had joined the rebel army. But it had already been a full month since the news broke.

 

“You’re going to Weil?”

 

Weil was a small, nondescript town on the western edge of Lavarta. It lay farther south than Lille and near the desolate western wastes, making it relatively safe from the ravages of war. Some of Daza’s wealthier residents were even rumored to be taking temporary refuge there. Nia thought that if he went to Weil, she might still be able to visit him.

 

But Leon’s response was completely unexpected.

 

“No, I’m thinking of heading to Daza.”

 

“…What?”

 

The Mage Guild in Daza had produced many defectors, and rumors had it that the townspeople had expelled them and the Guild headquarters itself was no longer functional. Going to a place like that was practically suicide.

 

“I’m not talking about entering the town itself. Word is, some of the Daza mages have started recruiting mage volunteers in the surrounding areas. I don’t know if they’ll accept someone like me, but I’m going to try.”

 

Nia stared, mouth agape, at the familiar face of the mage. She couldn’t immediately grasp the meaning of what he’d just said.

 

“Leon… you’re going to the battlefield?”

 

“Well, that’s assuming they’ll have me.”

 

“…Why?”

 

Unlike Zechs, Leon never used magic to harm others or destroy things. He often said it was simply because he lacked the talent to wield such powerful spells. But to Nia, Leon was the kind of mage who never resorted to violence, one who quietly healed her scrapes when she fell or was bullied. The image of him on a blood-soaked battlefield filled with screams and chaos felt completely wrong.

 

Leon looked away, unable to meet the eyes of the girl staring up at him so earnestly.

 

“In this country now, no matter where you go, as long as you’re a mage, people will look at you with suspicion and fear. And when that fear builds up… they act to get rid of the cause. It’s just how it is. So I have to show them that I’m not an enemy of Lavarta. That’s the only way. I think the mages fighting in Daza feel the same. Of course, some of them must also be fighting to protect the town they love.”

 

Nia thought it was absurd.

 

Risking one’s life to protect oneself was absurd!

 

But what was truly absurd was this situation. That thought made her shout out.

 

“It’s true that Prince Astoria is out of his mind! Why wage war at all? Even children know it’s wrong to kill each other or hurt people. Are you all stupid?”

 

Her clenched fists trembled. Whether from anger or fear of the approaching war, she didn’t know. And from her wide-open eyes, tears fell one after another.

 

“Why did Zechs join the rebel army? That idiot!”

 

Could he not imagine what would happen in Lille because of his actions? He might even die himself.

 

“War mustn’t happen. Dying is sad. I hate that there are people who have to feel such sorrow…!”

 

As Nia sobbed uncontrollably, Leon approached and held her in his arms.

 

Her thoughts were entirely correct. Yet Leon couldn’t say Zechs was wrong either.

 

When Leon heard the news that Zechs had joined the rebel army, he wasn’t surprised. Rather than shock, he felt a kind of resignation. It was as if he’d expected this day to come for a long time.

 

Zechs knew better than anyone the pain, sorrow, and shame of being oppressed. And he had power. So it was only natural that he would try to repel unjust pressure with that power. Leon himself might have chosen the same path if he had that power, and if he were a bit younger.

 

(Ah, there was some jealousy there, too.)

 

The thought crossed Leon’s mind.

 

Three years ago, Leon had hesitated to let Zechs join the Iron Fortress for two main reasons. First, Zechs hadn’t yet mastered all the magic Leon knew, and since he wasn’t great at reading, it seemed unlikely he could learn them on his own. Second, Leon had feared that once Zechs ventured into the wider world, gaining strength through harsh experience among many mages, he might ultimately seek revenge for what he’d suffered as a child. That he might use that strength to strike back at Lavarta.

 

In the end, the second fear may have been correct. From what Leon had heard, Prince Astoria had raised an army to rectify Lavarta’s unjust treatment of minorities, including mages and the Seldians. Leon couldn’t say how much Zechs agreed with the prince’s ideals, but surely, alongside that conviction, there was also a desire for vengeance.

 

Leon couldn’t chase after Zech, who had left Lavarta. He simply wasn’t strong enough. That fact stirred jealousy and disappointment in himself. At the same time, he felt a deep, unshakable fear, and sorrow.

 

(Dying is sad, huh?)

 

Such a stupidly simple truth. Leon let a faint smile cross his lips.

 

As he patted Nia’s back gently, her sobbing began to quiet down. When he pulled away, she looked up at him with tear-reddened eyes, glaring.

 

That determined gaze made Leon chuckle despite himself. Her strength, her almost painfully pure nobility – he, and surely his apprentice too, loved that about her.

 

“It’s alright. Neither Zechs nor I will die so easily. So you make sure you don’t do anything reckless either.”

 

If her father or younger brother were to be sent to the battlefield, a girl like her just might chase after them.

 

“…Will you come back safe?”

 

“Yeah. I hope I can.”

 

To Leon, Lille was a hometown that replaced the one where his parents, whose faces he could no longer remember, had once lived. If the chance came to return, he’d gladly take it. But he wasn’t confident enough to promise it, so he gave a vague smile.

 

And so, with only Nia there to see him off, Leon left Lille behind, without saying goodbye to anyone else. All that remained was an old, empty hut.

 

Two days after Leon’s departure, Nia was awakened in the middle of the night by the roar of many shouting voices. At first the noise was distant, but it grew steadily closer.

 

Peeking out her window, she saw a crowd of village men and some women, shouting like people possessed, heading into the forest.

 

A chill of unease ran through her. She jumped down from her bed, pulled on her shoes, and stepped out into the hall. Her mother stood at the front entrance, watching the scene outside with worry etched on her face. Her father was nowhere to be seen; perhaps he was already outside. As her younger brother emerged sleepily, Nia put a finger to her lips to hush him, then slipped around to the back door.

 

The night air against her skin felt pleasant. But she immediately noticed sparks carried on the wind, and her breath caught. Before she realized it, she had already started running. She didn’t take the familiar path, but instead cut through the underbrush, keeping herself hidden.

 

Even from within the thicket, she could tell what was happening. Beyond the trees, the night sky was ablaze with a glowing red.

 

The adults’ shouting still echoed. Nia shuddered at the sound; it was not just of anger and hatred, but of something that resembled elation.

 

In her line of sight, the villagers stood transfixed, as if bewitched, staring at the small hut as it burned and collapsed in vivid red.

 

That little hut held countless memories for Nia. Grief welled up at its destruction, and with it, a creeping fear.

 

It didn’t take long for the small structure to fall. Unable to keep watching the flames and the silent, enraptured crowd, Nia slipped back through the underbrush and ran home the way she had come.

 

She said nothing to her visibly shaken younger brother. Returning to her room, she dove into bed and pulled a blanket over her head, even though it was summer. She wasn’t cold, but her body wouldn’t stop trembling.

 

Nia was terrified. She couldn’t say of what. It was a vague dread. The villagers looking as if they were possessed, the red inferno, the crumbling hut… and the future that awaited them.

 

To shut out the distant voices, she covered her ears and clung desperately to herself, trying to endure that unknowable fear.

 

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Silavin: I feel sorry for this sad announcement but due to low readership for this novel, we are going to drop this.