SML Ch 83

Chapter 83

12. A Dust-Covered Library Expedition

After organizing the bone haul from the graveyard and setting other tasks in order, evening had already come before anyone realized. Over a late dinner, Reynald spoke leisurely with Heide.

“Seems the day has vanished, though we did so little.”

“‘So little?’ My lord, today alone you mounted that giant skeletal horse, and shortly after were wrapped in fire conjured by a mage the Swines summoned! The lads were in uproar. Hardly counts as nothing.”

Heide shook his head as if dizzy even imagining it, worry shadowing his face as if Reynald hid some injury. Yet in his eyes was awe, as though gazing not upon a man but upon a legendary beast slayer. Clearly Alex and the youths had spread tales with much exaggeration.

“Grand words aside, we gathered only bones in a graveyard. Best we rest now, and tomorrow take proper stock of this domain.”

“You said we’d search for traces from a hundred years past? This ‘Selection’ business sounds like idle clouds, doesn’t it? Could something strange truly lie slumbering beneath our village?”

“Best not dwell. That mage’s claim alone, no certainty yet. We must cross-check with whatever records exist, and see what proves true.”

“It won’t be easy.”

“No. Not unless the king’s mage arrived promptly—it would make matters easier.”

Reynald muttered without thought. He had told Volant they would somehow uncover past traces, but in truth, rebuilding events from scraps is near impossible. Unless a mage arrived who could weave spells to reconstruct echoes of the past—even a century back.

But what kind of mage had the king dispatched? Hopefully a familiar face… He pondered, until Heide remembered something.

“Ah. Speaking of. While you were bathing, a message bird arrived.”

“From the mage?”

“It seems so. The sender’s name was Theo. Said something amusing came up, so she’ll be delayed—and we should manage.”

“…Saints above. Of all people, he sent her.”

Reynald visibly shuddered. The king, so careless, with countless magi to choose from—and yet he had sent that one. Heide blinked in confusion.

“Why the reaction? Is she on poor terms with you?”

“No, not poor terms. Just… taxing to deal with.”

“Surprising. You called her elder sister—sounded affectionate.”

“She likes it when I do. We’ve known each other over twenty years, so yes, close of a sort. But Theophras… is reckless.”

In truth, the age gap was thirty years at least. She never spoke her true years, but as the kingdom’s eldest mage, she was more a mother figure than sister. Yet her skill as Archmage was unmatched. That, indeed, must be why she was sent—so that the greatest would retrieve Reynald and the princes swiftly.

“But that reckless willfulness—that is the problem.”

“Even her letter made that clear, I think. But… she will help us?”

“She’ll come. It’s the king’s command. But for her, curiosity trumps all. Only once she satisfies her ‘interesting thing’ will she wander here. And perhaps—better so.”

“Better, my lord?”

“As I said—her curiosity first, always. Managing her not to set fire to this domain will be struggle enough.”

In truth, Reynald half-wished she would not come at all. The aid she had lent over decades matched equally the times he had been dragged into absurd danger for her experiments. “You’re sturdy, my boy, you’ll do fine in a nasty skirmish,” she would insist, forcing peril on him.

Frankly, she resembled those “strange ones” Solden had spoken of—reckless souls who disrupt everything. If she arrived and began “testing” upon the villagers, the danger might be its own calamity.

“…Still, handled well, her help will be real. Till then, I’ll prepare what I can—do not fret too much.”

So it would be a wait. Theophras was no tardy soul for mere days; if delayed once, it meant a week at least.

“Tomorrow, I head to the lake. I’ll ask the Orthros Serpent—if not useful, then we turn to the library.”

“That reminds me. About the library… I tried searching today, as you asked.”

“Ah, yes. For records on the ship. What did you find?”

“…I hadn’t realized how… terrible that place is. Beg pardon, but—when you return from the lake tomorrow, could you accompany me inside? With the others too, if you please.”

“…What? Why?”

“You’ll see. It’s hard to explain. But once you see it, you’ll understand.”

Heide’s face paled white as chalk at even recalling it, as if merely thinking of the library conjured nightmare. Was it possible the “library” here was not a simple archive of books? Did this castle keep artifacts so uncanny Heide feared them?

“It’s not dangerous, no. At least… so I think. I tried organizing a few days, but… easier said than done.”

“Very well, Heide. Calm yourself. Don’t break a sweat. Tomorrow—we’ll all examine the place together.”

Plainly, while Reynald had wrestled monsters outside, Heide had fought a nightmare within these walls. One trouble at a time, Reynald thought. Perhaps fortune would strike, and the Serpent itself might answer their questions without their needing to touch dusty tomes at all.

Next morning, with princes and youths, Reynald visited the lake. He realized at once misfortune had already begun.

“…My lord. Was the lake always… like this?”

“Don’t ask what you already know. This—this is the mark of a Serpent’s metamorphosis into Dragon.”

The lads stared wide-mouthed. The doll, hovering in flickers of light above the water, drew an emphatic circle. The omen was real.

The whole lake had transformed. Across its surface rippled a film like oil, shifting hues across the spectrum, gleaming fantastically under the sun.

Reynald peered into the depths. Within that shimmering glow writhed the massive twin-headed sea-serpent. Its body was encased in a white, opaque shell like reptilian skin in mid-shed, with surging power boiling within.

“Could our battle have triggered this?” Arun asked.

“Hard to say. The timing fits. But… not certain.”

Perhaps, Reynald thought, the influence was not their doing, but another echo of “whatever sleeps beneath the land.”

He dipped his finger into the glowing waters. Harmless. Even lowering the green jewel from the Dullahan produced nothing.

“Seems deeply asleep. We’ll get no answers today.”

The Serpent slept within its shell, stirring only when fully a Dragon, reborn. That could take years.

So the plan to question its memories of Selection—and the necklaces—was lost for now.

“…But, Sir Reynald,” Serna piped. “Surely this one will make a good dragon. Its magic does not frighten the lesser monsters, even so potent.”

Indeed, nearby Anura frogs hopped carefree, unaffected. Before malignant dragons arose, even harmless beasts grew violent. That these small ones were playful, calm—it boded well.

“It will be a gentle White Dragon, perhaps,” Reynald allowed.

“Quaak?”

He even showed the frogs a jewel—no understanding, only head tilts. Clearly useless to ask them of a century’s memories or gemmed artifacts.

“Enough. We return to the castle. Nothing more to do for now,” Reynald resolved.

One could only hope the Serpent grew into a calm guardian—and that fate did not provoke invaders to harm it.

So they trudged back. It almost felt a picnic more than a mission—a rare outing ended without catastrophe.

“Then let’s do it. To the library.”

Declared Reynald. He flung open the long-closed study.

And at once stood stunned.

“…This is the library?”

“Yes, my lord,” said Heide miserably.

Even Reynald, not a bookish man, half wondered: In this domain, could the word “library” mean something far other?