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Chapter 33
Music (5)
“I received permission.”
“From whom?”
“From the treasurer, on behalf of the Lord.”
“What?”
Ian turned his head and looked at the treasurer.
The treasurer quickly stood up, moving his hands as if to excuse himself.
“My lord, please don’t misunderstand. This isn’t something recent. I asked for your permission nearly half a year ago.”
“You’re saying I gave permission?”
“To refine enough Voshdoom for ten wagons, one or two months would never be enough. We’ve been preparing for half a year. Doesn’t that alone prove I’m not lying?”
Ian couldn’t deny that the explanation made sense.
“Zeradin, from now on, you’ll ask me directly for permission. Not the treasurer. Understood?”
“I will remember, my lord.” Zeradin answered respectfully.
“I should be going now.”
Ian rose from his seat, stepped closer to the treasurer, and whispered.
“Do you have money on you?”
“…Pardon?”
“Gold coins. Do you have any right now? If you do, hand them over.”
“Ah, yes.”
The treasurer pulled out a fine leather pouch from his coat. It looked fairly heavy.
“Deduct the amount inside here from the seventy thousand gold coins.”
Turning around, Ian approached the musicians who had been performing late into the night.
They ranged from elderly men to young girls.
When the lord came near, they all stood nervously.
“You’ve worked hard. Your performance was splendid. Take this.”
“Thank you, my lord.”
The musicians received the coins joyfully. Leaving them behind, Ian strode out of the banquet hall.
Before boarding his carriage, he spoke to Zeradin, who had come to see him off.
“My doors are always open. I have no problem being generous toward merchants—so long as taxes are paid properly. We’ll meet again.”
Seated in the carriage, Ian watched Zeradin and the treasurer grow smaller in the distance, then leaned his head against the carriage wall and closed his eyes.
The chamber music he had just heard lingered in his heart, soothing his loneliness.
Not bad at all.
That deep night, Linda was copying line by line from the worn-out ancient tome she had discovered in the dungeon, using only the light of a lantern.
The original was so old and damaged that even opening and reading it risked further harm.
If she relied only on the original while researching the cure, the text itself might disintegrate before her eyes.
Thus, a clean copy was absolutely necessary.
But transcription demanded tremendous focus and patience.
She had to copy every single character of the incomprehensible ancient language without a single mistake—an excruciating task.
At times there were drawings of herbs or bronze pipes linking glass flasks, so on her desk she had also prepared paints and brushes to replicate them as faithfully as possible.
Just a little more…
Except for the time she spent teaching the lord in the mornings, Linda remained locked away at home, devoting herself to the transcription.
Her eyes, sharpened by such intense concentration, almost seemed to glow as though they could pierce the dark without a lantern.
“Finished!”
She finally set down her pen and stretched wide.
At last, after many days, the copy of the dungeon’s tome was complete.
Tears of joy welled in her eyes as she compared the original and her transcript, when a noisy commotion drifted in from the window.
She rose and approached.
Outside, she saw the lord’s carriage accompanied by mounted soldiers.
Where is he going at this late hour?
Coincidentally, anyone leaving or entering the lord’s manor had to pass by her house.
Thus, she inevitably learned of Ian’s movements.
The carriage has stopped…
Suddenly, Ian stepped out of the carriage, looked up toward her window, and called out.
“What are you doing awake?”
The night was so quiet that his voice carried clearly.
“I was copying the tome.”
Ian seemed to understand, gave a small nod, and without further comment reentered the carriage and rode toward the manor.
Linda watched until the carriage and soldiers faded into the distance, then glanced down.
Her father and Josh had stepped out of the house and were staring up at her.
“What did the lord say?”
“Just asked what I was doing.”
“That’s all?”
Nekamo, strung taut from stress over the cure, was bothered even by the lord’s smallest actions.
“I finished the copy. I’ll come down.”
Closing the window, Linda gathered the original and her transcript and descended the stairs.
On the table in the living room, several books borrowed with permission from the lord’s library lay open.
All were references for deciphering the ancient language in the dungeon tome.
While Linda copied, her father had been attempting to interpret portions of it.
“You worked hard. That couldn’t have been easy.”
Nekamo glanced through the transcript and, looking weary, leaned back in his chair.
Linda accepted the warm tea Josh had poured for her.
“Thank you.”
Since the dungeon incident, Josh had been permitted by the lord to live with them as Nekamo’s assistant.
“How goes the translation?”
“It’s extremely difficult. At this rate, it might take years just to decipher. It could even prove impossible.”
Some medical texts were in ancient language, so Nekamo had long studied it, more skilled than most scholars.
He was the one who had taught Linda the language.
But the dungeon’s script was unlike any he had ever encountered.
“It’s frustrating… Without understanding it, we can’t move forward with the research.”
“I’ll study harder.”
Nekamo knew his daughter was far more intelligent than himself. If she dedicated herself, she would certainly surpass him.
But he didn’t want to burden her with this difficult work alone.
“No. I don’t think this is something we can solve by ourselves. We need someone else’s help.”
“There’s no one around here who’s better than you at ancient languages. Unless you mean to ask Sharel—the one who went to the Grand Duke?”
Sharel was a great mage and expert in ancient languages. Compared to him, Nekamo was far behind.
“Do you think he would even glance our way? He’s now the Grand Duke’s son-in-law. Even our lord would hardly want to hand over a dungeon tome to someone who left his domain.”
“Then who do you mean?”
Nekamo looked between Linda and Josh.
“Alchemist Cain.”
“What?”
Josh, who had been listening silently, nearly jumped out of his seat.
He too had heard plenty about Cain.
“You mean that Cain, the fraud?”
“Yes, that Cain.”
“No way. What could a swindler know?”
Growing up in the slums, Josh remembered the scandal Cain had caused four years ago in Camiu, and scoffed.
“And what do you know? Fraud or not, when it comes to ancient languages, he’s unmatched. He once worked at the royal palace as an expert scholar of the ancient tongue.”
“Really…?”
Josh quieted, realizing he hadn’t known.
“Father, I think I’ve heard about him too. But isn’t he being punished now for his crimes?”
“That’s why we must plead with the lord. Right now, his help is desperately needed.”
Alchemist Cain (1)
Ian was in a sour mood because he had made a mistake in dictation. Until now, he had answered everything perfectly—his streak was broken.
“I’m sorry, my lord. I chose too difficult a word and sentence.”
“A test should stay within what’s been taught! That was unfair—cheating, really. So count it as correct.”
Linda covered her mouth, laughing softly. He sounded just like a sulking child.
“What’s funny? My pride is on the line here.”
Seeing his stern expression, Linda quickly erased her smile and nodded.
“That one was my mistake. You got them all right. Congratulations, my lord.”
“That feels better.”
Ian smiled faintly and sipped his cold tea.
Now, though still slow, he could read books by himself and write some words he knew.
He was gradually shedding his illiteracy.
“How is Josh? No troublemaking? Adjusting well?”
“Yes. Thanks to your generosity in allowing him to stay at the castle, he’s doing well.”
“That’s good.”
“Where did you go last night?”
Linda asked softly as she tidied up the books.
“Oh, last night. I went to Merchant Zeradin’s house. I suddenly wanted to hear music. There are no musicians in the castle.”
“I see.”
“Come with me sometime. Their musicians are very talented.”
As Ian stood from his chair, Linda quickly spoke up.
“My lord, I have a request.”
Ian paused, then sat back down, sunlight streaming behind him as he studied her serious expression.
“What sort of request makes you look so tense?”
“Actually… We’re struggling to interpret the book found in the dungeon. Waiting and trying isn’t enough—it’s too frustrating.”
“So?”
“We need a true expert in ancient languages. My father is skilled, but this is beyond him. There is one person in our domain who could help. Please summon him.”
“And who is this person that makes you so nervous to even mention?”
Ian smirked.
“Alchemist Cain. He’s imprisoned for fraud.”
Every morning, the chief scribe’s first task upon arriving at the Camiu offices was to read the reports from village chiefs.
Sometimes they came in person, but usually, trained messenger pigeons carried the news swiftly.
Thus, by the following day, significant events from across the domain always reached his ears.
He then sifted through the gathered information to determine what was important enough to report to the lord.
That day, out of more than thirty sheets delivered by pigeon, he selected only two.
“Prepare the carriage. I’m going to the castle.”
Inside the jostling carriage, he massaged his aching knees.
The medicine prepared by Healer Nekamo had lessened his pain somewhat.
But walking was still difficult and painful.
It wasn’t merely age. An arrow lodged in his knee in his younger years seemed finally to be exacting its toll.
If that cure they speak of is ever completed, perhaps it could help my knee too…
That miraculous medicine—said to have healed a rotting foot instantly—was naturally of great interest to him.
Arriving at the castle, he was startled when he glanced out of the carriage window.
The lord himself was riding a horse alongside his carriage.
“My lord!”
“I thought I’d forgotten how to ride, but after a few tries, I’m getting the hang of it again.”
At first, syncing with the horse’s rhythm and keeping balance had been difficult, but now Ian was starting to ride with confidence.
