Chapter 17

Chapter 17

The servant asked in disbelief, her voice filled with surprise, asking if he genuinely intended to take the girl with him.

Ferda urged her to consider the situation logically. By her own admission, the young girl was bound to keep making mistakes in her duties, which meant the servant would constantly be stuck tidying up her messes.

Her lips pressed into an unhappy scowl. That was the exact frustration she was enduring, and the thought of it dragging on endlessly stoked a flame of resentment within her.

He pressed further, asking if she possessed the authority to issue commands to the girl.

She admitted that she held that right.

Ferda pointed out that if she had the power to order her around, she certainly possessed the authority to cast her out of the estate.

Hesitating slightly, the servant murmured that she had still raised and looked after the child.

Ferda countered that while she might feel that way, she needed to confront the harsh reality of the matter. He began to encircle her with his rhetoric, noting that the brighter a jewel glimmers, the more noticeable its blemishes become. He asked her who would ultimately pay the price in the long run. Her master was currently gaining renown as a Sage, and his status was on the rise. He asked if a truly devoted attendant would not prune away such shortcomings and conceal his flaws.

A shift occurred in the servant’s gaze. His line of reasoning was starting to seem remarkably sound. The simple fact that she was weighing his words proved that her resolve was already crumbling.

Deciding to strike the decisive blow, Ferda offered to make her choice effortless. Reaching into his garments, he presented three gleaming gold coins and placed them before her.

Gasping in astonishment, the woman’s eyes bulged in utter shock.

Three gold pieces.

For an ordinary laborer who spent a lifetime working the soil, laying eyes on a single gold coin was an extraordinary event. Having three of them resting in her grasp made her senses reel. She thought to herself that to hide the master’s imperfections, getting rid of such a girl was a small price to pay.

Clearing her throat, she adopted an obsequious posture, rubbing her palms together while eagerly asking what he wished for her to do.

Ferda explained that words held power, and her role was straightforward. All she needed to do was issue a direct directive commanding the child to abandon her name from that point forward.

Nodding rapidly, she called out to the girl, ordering her to abandon her chore and step forward immediately.

The young girl rose and made her way toward the servant.

The attendant instructed the wretched child to pay close attention.

The girl offered a blank, unfeeling nod.

The woman declared that from this instant, she was to strip herself of her name. Furthermore, the gentleman before her would serve as her master, and she was to obey and follow him.

The girl’s gaze slowly shifted toward Ferda. Her vacant, hollow eyes seemed to hold an unspoken inquiry.

Meeting her empty stare, Ferda asked if she accepted him as her new master.

With measured, rhythmic slowness, the girl nodded in agreement.

Ferda affirmed that the agreement was settled. He then turned his attention back to the middle-aged attendant, who was already lost in running her fingers over the precious coins. He remarked that since their transaction was finalized, he would let her in on an intriguing truth.

Curious, she inquired what he meant.

Having secured his objective, Ferda decided the time had come to reveal the underlying reality. He told her he would explain why her master had treasured this child so deeply, despite her apparent lack of intelligence.

She guessed that perhaps it was merely because the child possessed an attractive appearance.

Ferda rejected the idea. He noted that her master, Helus Fobidas, favored women with voluptuous figures who giggled at his pathetic attempts at humor. He described Helus as a man crippled by a deep sense of inadequacy, someone who lacked the nerve to engage with clever women and therefore surrounded himself with shallow company. Thus, even if the servant girl was pretty, there was no reason for a man like him to dote upon an emotionally detached, youthful servant.

The servant’s expression began to harden. She could not comprehend why he was disclosing such details, but his tone sounded like an ominous warning that she had crossed an irreversible line.

Ferda asked whether she would believe him if he revealed that this dull child was the genuine wellspring of the very wisdom and insight her master claimed to possess.

She wondered in utter confusion how an unintelligent creature like her could possibly hold such power. The fog of bewilderment overtook her mind. Only at that moment did the servant grasp that her greed and blindness had lured her directly into a snare.

With trembling fingers, she held out the three coins, begging to undo the transaction and return the gold in exchange for keeping the girl.

Ferda declined, stating there was no purpose in undoing it, and warned her that even if she surrendered the gold, she would not walk away from the matter alive.

Terrified, she asked why that was.

Ferda reminded her of what he had spoken. Hearing the truth of this matter was the equivalent of discovering a deity’s hidden vulnerability, and he hoped she understood the sheer gravity of possessing such a secret.

She had trapped herself. Those who gaze upon the forbidden flaws of a god inevitably meet their end.

The attendant’s complexion drained until it was completely pale.

Ferda stated with his typical chill that revealing this was an act of clemency on his part. It was her cue to take the gold and flee as swiftly as possible, warning her that the instant her master discovered her transgression, she would vanish from the world entirely.

Ferda asked Ruri whether she thought it was possible for a mortal to attain sudden, instantaneous enlightenment.

Ruri replied that she believed it was.

When asked for her reasoning, she explained that while people assume they endure based on the knowledge gathered through generations, accumulation alone cannot guarantee survival. She argued that humanity has persisted through spontaneous sparks of genius that cannot be attained solely through study.

It was a philosophical view fitting for an attendant serving an ageless being.

Ferda agreed that her thought held truth, but noted it was also flawed.

She asked for clarification.

He pointed out that one cannot strike water by digging in a spot lacking an underground spring, no matter how deep the effort. Regardless of how profound an insight might seem, knowledge that never existed cannot simply materialize from nothing.

Ferda cast his eyes toward the written name before him: Helus Fobidas. He remarked that this man was no different.

Ruri deduced that if his claim was accurate, the Sage of Water was nothing more than a figurehead. She turned her attention to the blonde young woman standing quietly nearby, roughly her own height. The girl’s eyes were unfocused, staring aimlessly into the void, perfectly capturing the appearance of an utter simpleton. Ruri asked if he was truly claiming this mindless girl was the origin of that sage’s profound wisdom.

Ferda made a subtle motion resembling the tug of a tether, asking if she had ever heard of a Slave Sage.

Human society advances by documenting and distilling the wisdom of the past to build the future. In Ferda’s domain, where understanding transcends mere physical encounters, such beings bear that title.

The fundamental pursuit of scholars is to anticipate the unpredictable and master the uncontrollable, with each seeker discovering their own path toward that ambition. Some assemble disparate fragments of lore to form novel revelations; others unearth ancient, forgotten arts through research and excavation; some petition the divine to receive sacred answers.

Yet there are those who cross into forbidden boundaries where mortals must never tread.

Among every method, traversing that forbidden realm yields the most potent results. It is not about earning the favor or warmth of a god, but catching sight of the deity’s vulnerability. The girl Ferda had acquired was someone who had breached that very taboo.

Attaining wisdom powerful enough to upend the world demanded an immense toll, one that was strikingly simple.

A person loses the capacity to ask, ‘Who am I?’

It is a deceptively plain query, yet it encompasses existence entirely. Knowing your identity gives meaning to your life, and purpose drives every deliberate deed.

Yet paradoxically, it was her very inability to form that thought that allowed her to survive. She had become the pinnacle of wisdom, incapable of self-guided motion or independent contemplation.

An absolute instrument.

Ferda concluded that this was precisely how a Slave Sage was crafted.

Ruri remarked that forfeiting one’s sense of self in exchange for power was an utter act of foolishness.

Ferda agreed with a bitter tone, stating it was indeed a foolish sacrifice.

Ruri could not comprehend why he bore such a somber look. She asked what manner of prohibited knowledge the girl had acquired to become this way.

Ferda lightly touched the child’s head, stating it was the Library of All Things.

Ruri repeated the name in surprise.

He asked if she would believe that this small child’s mind harbored more volumes of knowledge than the entirety of Escoleia.

Ruri scrutinized the girl. She seemed utterly ordinary, devoid of magical energy or any trace of a sinister aura. Had she passed her in the streets, she would have assumed she was simply a fool. The thought that she housed more knowledge than the grand collective repository of mortal intellect was staggering, yet Ruri did not doubt it, recognizing that it was now their duty to manage.

Ferda commanded the girl to look directly at him.

Her vacant eyes shifted toward him.

Ferda told her that before bestowing a name, he would impart her most vital directive. He declared that this command would serve as her breath, persist like her heartbeat, and stand as an unshakeable truth.

The girl nodded.

Speaking as though chanting a binding rite, Ferda commanded that the mighty sovereign, the Red Dragon and Archduchess of Valdrova, was to be the origin and conclusion of her existence, and that she would surrender her entire being to her.

She nodded in obedience.

He continued, stating that he, Ferda Valdrova, acting as the Archduchess’s surrogate, held the authority to command her and give orders.

She nodded again.

He added that if he ever enacted a measure that contradicted or opposed the Archduchess’s principles, she had the right to voice opposition. And if she ultimately found his actions irreconcilable, he granted her permission to take the ultimate step and rise in rebellion. He asked if she had committed every word to memory.

She offered another nod.

Ferda declared that her name would henceforth be Mori.

Upon receiving the name Mori, a faint glimmer of awareness seemed to awaken within her eyes.

Later, inside the study of Valdrova Castle, Ruri reviewed their progress, remarking that aside from Marquis Burnell, every target had been successfully brought into the fold.

Ferda expressed confidence that Burnell would arrive before long.

When she questioned his certainty, he stated that if the man failed to appear after everything that had been said, he would simply abandon the pursuit. There was no desperate yearning or frantic insistence to secure him; it seemed as though he was merely permitting events to drift naturally with the current of time.

Ruri noted to herself that his detachment mirrored the demeanor of the ageless beings. Even she, who drew a sharp line between mortal and immortal, found his bearing puzzling. She looked over the parchment containing four names, each struck through with a line, and asked if those four completed the list for the time being.

Ferda denied this, revealing there was one final individual.

When she asked who it was, he inscribed a name onto the sheet:

—Ruri Valdrova.

He stated that she was the final person.

Ruri looked upon him with unmistakable disdain, declaring that she had no intention of aligning herself with him, warning him not to misread their slight familiarity.

Ferda acknowledged her stance, explaining that blind allegiance was not what he sought from her. In fact, he preferred that she continue observing him with the very hostility she currently felt.

Perplexed, she asked what he meant.

Ferda explained that if Mori ever instigated a rebellion against him, Ruri was the one who needed to stand at the forefront of the charge.

Her expression became rigid, visibly rattled far more by this statement than by being labeled an ally. She asked if he was truly telling her to slay him.

Ferda confirmed that he was.

Demanding an explanation, she asked why.

Ferda replied that unlike enduring entities such as dragons, mortal humans were bound to perish eventually.

Ruri involuntarily tightened her hands into fists; those were the precise sentiments she had once shared with Valdrova.

He explained that because mortals die, they are subject to change, and their clarity wanes. When that corruption took hold of him, he feared he might fabricate justifications of serving the Archduchess while merely feeding his own selfish desires. A melancholic shadow crossed his eyes as he raised his gaze to meet hers. His deep blue gaze held profound sincerity, which Ruri could sense clearly. He told her that as her loyal servant, she had to keep watch over him so that his Sovereign and betrothed would never suffer harm.

Struggling through trembling lips, Ruri managed to say that he sounded just like an arrogant mortal who failed to recognize his limits. Though the sharp words came out instinctively, she nodded in agreement to his terms, relenting that she could manage that much if that was how he framed it.

Ferda voiced his gratitude, noting that she was indeed a steadfast Dragon Spawn.

Ruri stated that there was an error in his understanding which she intended to correct. Drawing a line across the family name he had written, she openly discarded it to assert her identity, declaring that this was her true lineage:

—Ruri Silverwind.

Taking her leave, she excused herself from the room.

As she departed the chamber, Ferda looked in quiet contemplation at the name left behind. He had not foreseen this revelation. When a Dragon Spawn concludes their Ascension Ceremony, they adopt the sovereign dragon’s lineage as their own. Just as he had transitioned from Rosnova to Valdrova, Ruri ought to have carried the name of the master who granted her power. Yet she was not of Valdrova, but of Silverwind.

She was the Spawn of a Silver Dragon.

In retrospect, the clues had always been present. Her astonishing speed that allowed her to vanish in an instant, her mastery over gale magic—all of it pointed directly to the bloodline of a Silver Dragon.

Yet the realization seemed completely contradictory. Silverwind had met his demise at the hands of Valdrova herself. Following the destruction of the Evil Dragon Godwin, Valdrova had succumbed to a wild frenzy, and it was the Silver Dragon Silverwind who gave up his life to bring her under control. Consequently, their factions were sworn enemies. The reason Valdrova had been condemned as a Calamity was largely due to the reputation and followers left behind by Silverwind.

Ferda rested his chin upon his hand, wondering why a follower of the Silver Dragon would pledge her devotion to the Red Dragon. He questioned if her allegiance was merely an elaborate deception.

He quickly discarded that suspicion. Her dedication was beyond question; the diligence with which she managed affairs for her reclusive lady was far too profound to stem from simple obligation.

He wondered if she had severed ties with her Silver heritage, but dismissed that thought as well. The pull of dragon blood was far too absolute, holding even greater sway than mortal ties.

Ferda found himself at a loss. Looking back into his recollections of the future, certain inconsistencies nagged at him. When he had marched to end Valdrova’s life in that timeline, Ruri had been nowhere to be found. The sanctuary they had established lay half-ruined, and only Valdrova had remained, waiting like a defeated soul for death to claim her.

He wished he understood why she had abandoned her post back then. However, it had not concerned him at the time, leaving him without answers. All he knew with certainty was that this fiercely loyal follower would eventually turn away from Valdrova.

He resolved to uncover the truth behind this mystery. Regardless of the circumstances, it was an outcome that would inevitably bring deep sorrow to his betrothed, leaving him with no hesitation to act.

The following morning, a carriage pulled up before the gates of Valdrova Castle.

Marquis Burnell had arrived.