Hearth, the center of Rondan.
I gazed quietly, almost in a meditative state, at the flames on the rooftop that seemed like they would never extinguish. As soon as the snowstorm met them, it sublimated into steam.
In the world of Snow Castle, the concepts of morning and evening don’t exist. There’s a subtle brightness difference beyond the clouds, but when you’re near the flames of the Hearth, it’s so bright you barely notice.
That’s why the number of people wandering around is almost the same whether I’m sleeping soundly or waking up. I guess thanks to that, there are several facilities in Rondan that are open 24/7. Like the market I went with Asti, or regular hospitals rather than emergency rooms.
One of them is the library I’m heading to.
“It’s been a while since I’ve gone alone.”
When I arrived at the branch, I felt a bit uneasy having persuaded Asti not to come along. The thing I was about to look up would essentially be digging into Asti’s past, so I couldn’t help being cautious. I often felt healed seeing the excitement in Asti’s eyes whenever she was overwhelmed by something new, so it was a shame not to bring her along.
“I understand, Master. I’ll have the meal ready by the time you return.”
The moment I think of how she quickly lowers her head without stubbornness, my heart aches. Perhaps I should take her to the market after gathering information at the library.
I entered the Hearth Knights’ headquarters. Knights should be ready to spring into action whenever something happens, so it’s beneficial to report where I am. Though there are plenty of knights anyway, so it’s usually fine.
Beyond the spiral staircase, I headed down the steps to open the headquarters’ door, where I unexpectedly bumped into someone.
“Subordinate.”
I happened to run into White Mask, who was also reaching out to open the door. Was she there to see the Deputy Director? This was the first time seeing White Mask in the headquarters since being taken away to the underground prison. I’m strangely curious yet awkward seeing her here, feeling like ‘Is someone like her here?’
“Master.”
“I didn’t call for you, I think.”
“I came to report I’m planning to visit the library today.”
“Alright. That’s the conduct of a commendable knight.”
White Mask gave my shoulder a couple of pats as she spoke. Her attitude towards me had been changing recently, whenever I achieved something. Perhaps it felt more casual or rather getting a bit closer?
It was quite fine after all, so I responded with a smile each time.
“Thank you, Master!”
“The Deputy Director is inside. Go on.”
“Yes, have a good day.”
With those words, White Mask walked out with slightly clunky steps. For someone seemingly favorable towards me, her emotional steps raised questions. Maybe something unpleasant had happened?
I cautiously tilted my head at the unfamiliar vibe from White Mask and entered the Deputy Director’s office, soon figuring out the possible cause.
The Knight Commander was staring blankly into space. The Deputy Director was holding his head, letting out a heavy sigh.
And for some reason, even a broken chair was in sight.
…Looks like something happened while talking with the Deputy Director.
“…Tanton, you’re here.”
“Yes, Deputy Director.”
With a seemingly worn-out face, the Deputy Director weakly spoke.
“I plan to stay at the library for a bit, and I came to report this.”
“…Alright, do as you please.”
Normally, the Deputy Director would ask how long, and what books I’d be looking at, but he just let it slide, seemingly exhausted. What could they have been discussing to create such a serious atmosphere?
Well, not that it’s my place to ask about it. Just when I decided to let it pass, a knight knocked and entered the office.
“Deputy Director, there’s a spike in cases of mental contamination recently.”
“I had already instructed it to be handed over after receiving the report, and yet you are unaware. What branch are you from?”
“Ah, erm…”
…Unable to witness the superior’s venting outburst any longer, I quickly saluted the Deputy Director and left.
Even in this mess, the Deputy Director still precisely returned my salutation with equally crisp gestures.
#
Library.
One of Rondan’s ironclad rules is never to read writings not authored by humans, which makes people extremely wary of reading books. Consequently, according to the Knights’ statistics, 90% of Rondan’s population is illiterate, and the remaining 10% mostly understand things through context rather than direct reading.
You would think the books in the library are safe, but even outsider-authored books occasionally make their way in. Scholars who unwittingly read those… well, there’s no need for further details.
In any case, it’s a place so perilous, like a minefield near the ceasefire line, that one couldn’t be surprised to fall into traps anywhere.
However, given my near-immunity to outsider-induced mental contamination, it’s like a treasure trove of diverse information for me. Even the things outsiders wrote, like the records keeper’s verses, sometimes proved helpful, so any knowledge was welcome from my perspective.
“Welcome to the Gwynn Library.”
Entering the library, I was greeted by impressive rows of bookshelves. Although they were old and faded in color, their orderly alignment offered a different sort of awe compared to when I first emerged from the underground prison and beheld Rondan’s scenery.
Intending to find information about outsiders alone amidst these vast bookshelves would be an obvious hardship. Approaching a middle-aged man with glasses, I was relieved to see him close the book he was reading and take off his glasses as he stood up.
Luckily, he was the librarian.
“Hello.”
“How may I assist you?”
“I’d like to peruse books containing information on outsiders.”
Did I bring this up too suddenly? The librarian’s eyebrows momentarily furrowed.
“Outsiders?”
“I’m a knight, gathering information.”
Attempting to keep calm in response to the face that seemed ready to deem me insane at any moment, I spoke as plainly as possible. Finally, the librarian frowned as he examined me keenly, then nodded.
“Ah, come to think of it, your face does seem familiar. Are you Sir Leydan Tanton?”
Truthfully, I didn’t expect he’d know even my name.
…At this point, you could almost say I’m an idol of Rondan. A talent the Deputy Director has high hopes for, and the outsiders covet!
…Though, the latter isn’t exactly an honorable achievement.
“Thank you for recognizing me.”
“In that case, I understand. However, even I manage books related to outsiders with great caution due to the inherent danger in reading them.”
“No worries. I know how to avoid them.”
“…Do you perhaps possess the knowledge of a mystic scholar?”
His intrigued gaze made me feel a bit bashful.
It’s not like that.
Well, maybe it’s better to bluff a little here.
“Yes, my father used to be somewhat reputable as a scholar in mysticism.”
“In that case, it shouldn’t be a problem. Over there, the bright-colored bookshelves in the farthest corner contain books related to outsiders. I hope you enjoy your reading.”
After saying this, the librarian slowly bowed respectfully before returning to his seat to resume reading.
…To me, he seemed a perfect depiction of naivety, given how he spoke.
Approaching the bookshelves the librarian directed me to, what I found was a bunch of tattered books, perhaps due to their age. Some of them were so dilapidated it was challenging to discern their content even from the covers.
Sigh, this won’t do.
I planned to only check the relevant ones, but at this rate, I’ll have to go through everything one by one, wasting far too much time.
Fortunately, I could derive the criteria by which the books were arranged on the shelves. Popular books were on the left, while those shunned or difficult were generally on the right.
And if my guess was right, books related to interrogators might be less known and thus would lean towards the right side. With that thought, I reached for a book, but someone else’s hand overlapped with mine at the same spot.
Following the hand and arm, I traced my gaze to the face of a man standing there, resembling a sage with a long beard.
“Ah, you can read it first.”
I was merely searching for relevant information, not eager to devour a specific book, so I intended to let him have it. However, despite my offer, the man did not seem inclined to pull out the book but stared me down instead.
“…?”
Matching his gaze, the man finally opened his mouth slowly.
“Are you not Sir Tanton?”
Whoa, I’m super popular.
Scratching the back of my head, I nodded, and the man’s eyes began widening further.
“Sir Tanton, do you read books?”
“Yes, well. I can read a little.”
Upon hearing my words, the man made a ‘hmm’ sound, looking around briefly before directing a meaningful look back at me.
“As expected, our assumptions were correct.”
“Pardon?”
“Sir Tanton. Did you perhaps find a basis to read verses in the Gardener’s garden and survive?”
To the man’s words, I couldn’t help but be startled.
I couldn’t confirm whether the records keeper’s verses were helpful, but it’s true that they aided me in grasping the Gardener’s true intentions.
How on earth did this man discern that?
Catching onto my expression, the man nodded as he spoke.
“Yes, indeed it was true. Sir Tanton, there’s a favor I’d like to ask of you.”
And in the ensuing conversation, I discovered more about this man, who turned out to be someone holding a fairly high position within the scholars of mysticism, frequently mentioned until now.
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