Chapter: 56
“Well, I didn’t really expect a solid answer when I asked that question. In the end, it’s more about history than wisdom, and the Harrenites will just need a bit more time…”
“…Yeah.”
The evidence that the Lazy King has dragon blood sparkled in his vertically slitted pupils.
The royalty of Harren doesn’t need any laws, violence, or authority to rule the Harrenites. The right of the dragon’s descendants to reign in the skies of Harren was a divine privilege established the moment King Natae was born with dragon eyes.
It was a natural right that couldn’t be seized by either constitutional monarchy or republicanism.
So then, why do the ‘descendants of the dragon’ rule over the Harren people? What kind of pact did they make in the past?
No, let’s start at the very beginning.
What exactly is a “dragon”?
“…Your Majesty, do you know of any animals that are born with vertical pupils?”
“Hmm? Well, maybe a snake or a cat?”
“Animals like snakes, crocodiles, foxes, basking sharks, lizards, and cats are typically born with vertical pupils. These pupils help in adjusting to brightness and ensure high sensitivity in low light, but for larger predators, the distortion of the surrounding view is a much bigger disadvantage than the benefits. Even within the same family, the trend of having ‘vertical pupils’ varies with the size of the creature.”
“Wow, that’s new information for me, but it makes a lot of sense.”
“But aren’t mythical dragons supposed to be gigantic?”
“Well, records passed down in Harren state that the ancient species of ‘dragon’, the ancestor of the royal family, was so enormous it could nest in entire mountain ranges.”
I can’t confidently declare that such records about the existence of a ‘dragon’ are accurate, but it feels oddly right.
A creature so incredibly massive it seems to transcend any evolutionary barrier.
I’ve seen a creature like that before.
A wooden orbital elevator— the World Tree. It was clearly a structure designed with a purpose in mind, a colossal stepping stone that would eventually help humanity ascend into space.
That means the being called ‘dragon’ probably also has a significant role to play.
So, before I answer the Lazy King’s question, I need to understand this premise better.
“Your Majesty, what exactly is this thing called a ‘dragon’?”
…
After finishing my conversation with the Lazy King, I returned to my quarters and stared blankly at the ceiling.
In the end, I neither had the right information nor a convincing answer to give. All I was left with was an awkward knot in my stomach.
– “I’m clueless myself. What I know about that ‘old pact’ goes back to 1200 years ago, around the founding of the Harren Kingdom. It’s practically myth now.”
– “…That feels quite recent, doesn’t it?”
– “It was a thousand years ago when the Savior came to this land… so it’s a long time, but also not so long, depending on how you look at it. It’s all about the founding of the Harren Kingdom.”
It’s said that the dragon made a subservience pact with the Harrenites and established the ‘Harren Kingdom’ 1200 years ago.
Sure, 1200 years is an ages-long period, but from a historical perspective, it’s also a time that can be somewhat ‘fished’ for details.
But in this world, nearly all records of the era prior to the “Savior” are practically nonexistent.
It was the same in the Empire, and the same in the Harren Kingdom, as if someone went ahead and erased it all.
“Is there some Big Brother controlling this world…?”
My head grew foggy, prompting me to leave the hostel for a stroll outside.
I thought about stopping by a bookstore. Although I’d read most of the books in the area, reading is pretty much the only skill I have.
Scanning the shelves for a promising new release would surely help me calm down soon.
As I trekked the long streets, I noticed the Harrenites valued quiet, so unlike the Empire, the surroundings felt strangely peaceful.
And then—
From somewhere in the distance, I caught a whiff of the sweet smell of old paper. You know, the kind you get in quaint old bookstores or libraries.
I was drawn to the aroma as if under a spell. Was there a library nearby I didn’t know about?
“…A church?”
Contrary to my expectations, it turned out to be a church. The source of the bookish scent was a pile of stacked, bound books in the church yard.
A few priests and parishioners were bustling about, tidying up the church.
Looks like they were doing a big clean-up. Or maybe they were preparing to move? Who knows.
As I stood there blankly, one of the priests carrying luggage approached me and struck up a conversation.
“Good to see you, brother! The church is a bit chaotic right now, huh?”
“Oh, yes. Are you moving the church?”
“Haha, no. The church building’s just too big, so we’re clearing out some unnecessary rooms to turn into a soup kitchen.”
“What’s that?”
“The doctor’s door shouldn’t be closed, and the priest’s door should always be wide open.”
“Is that a line from Les Misérables…?”
“Oh, you caught me! Haha, I see you’ve also found Les Misérables quite memorable.”
The priest laughed while fiddling with the rosary on his arm.
He glanced over at the others moving books and continued to speak.
“I’ve heard intellectuals debating whether Les Misérables is a republican novel or not… Honestly, I’m not too sure about those labels. I just think that seeing someone striving to do good— it stirs up something inside you, right?”
“Yeah…”
“It would definitely be a joy if you remain our bishop forever… But nothing would offend God more than to look up at Him and ignore the world around you. Even if our order is flawed, if there are more people like Bishop Myriel, reaching out to Jean Valjean, wouldn’t that shower this world with peace?”
“……”
“That’s why we’re trying to help people like… ‘long-haired’ folks… those wanting to learn a skill to earn a living, those who have sinned with no one to trust, and those so poor they can’t even learn to read. We want to teach them skills and help them find jobs. After all, plenty in our church work in factories and businesses.”
“You’re doing something good.”
“It’s something we should have done long ago. In fact, I’ve heard that in the Empire, with the support of a writer named Homer, they’ve already implemented things like this. You know, the one who wrote Don Quixote and The Little Prince?”
“Oh, yeah.”
The foundation I had started in the Empire did something similar.
They poured thousands of gold coins each month on universal education for children.
But the whole thing boiled down to my own greed.
Wanting to elevate literature in this world to soak up more of it. Whether it was universal education or welfare, to me, it was merely a tactic to create more ‘writers’.
Wouldn’t it be wonderful if the kids who learned to read blossomed into great authors?
“Recently, it seems this ‘literature’ has been changing society greatly, so perhaps it’s a gift from the Almighty,” the priest pondered.
“…Right.”
“Oh! If there are any books in this pile you’d like to read, I’d be happy to give them to you.”
“No, thanks. I’ve read them all.”
“All of them…?”
The priest chuckled, clearly thinking I was just boasting.
I nodded nonchalantly and stepped out of the church yard, resuming my stroll.
Once back at my lodging, I leisurely reread Les Misérables, just as I always do when I travel.
But for some reason, today I just couldn’t focus.
[“Don’t forget. You must never forget that you promised to use this silver to become an honest man… My brother Jean Valjean, you no longer belong to evil, but to good. I am using this silver to buy your soul.”]
“The greatest intellectual of the Empire, huh…”
Literature doesn’t change anything. It’s not a magic spellbook, nor does it provide any direct use.
If literature was genuinely useful, after reading tens of thousands of works, I’d probably be a pretty decent human being by now. But here I am, a translator and plagiarist lost in the world of literature.
Despite all its futility, literature truly does have the power to change the world. At least, it makes us acknowledge that we don’t know something.
So, it turns out this was all rather straightforward.
“I don’t even know why I was stressing over all this in the first place…”
Whether it’s the magic that makes up this world, the World Tree planting roots here, the Big Brother orchestrating this world’s fate in one direction, or some transcendent force that reincarnated me here.
These are not problems that should bog down a plagiarist like me.
Whether the Kingdom of Harren thrives under an absolute monarch or becomes its own master as republican citizens.
That’s not my concern.
That kind of stuff is ultimately outside the realm of literature. The only thing I really need to ponder is:
Does this issue contribute to ‘literature’?
And my conclusion is just as straightforward.
“I can’t figure it out no matter how hard I brainstorm, so I’ll just dive in and see what happens.”
Ultimately, there are better, smarter, more talented, and exceptional folk who will handle it somehow.
So, as a plagiarist,
I’ll toss in a little literature for them to reference, and that’s all there is to it. The interpretation? That’ll be up to them to decide.
Because there are no right answers in literature.
And so, I began my new act of literary plagiarism.
…
…
…
[Big Brother is watching you].
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