[I am very pleased to learn that the translation of the travelogue has been completed, Professor Noel. In addition, it is my honor to introduce a publisher to you. I have read your work, and you are truly a gifted novelist.
“It is inconvenient to explain too much in the letter. If you are available, I will be waiting for you tomorrow at 1:00 PM at the restaurant where we met last time. It would be best if you brought the translator along; I will bring the publisher.
“If this time is inconvenient for you, you may write back to inform me of another time; if I do not receive your reply, I will assume we are meeting tomorrow.]
Tomorrow at 1:00 PM, Siles thought. He happened to have no classes then.
Lanmere’s reply made Siles sigh in relief. Even if he didn’t have high expectations for the novel’s publication, getting it published was naturally a good thing. That was what Siles was accustomed to doing.
Should I bring Emmanuel to tomorrow’s meeting…
After a moment of thought, Siles changed into casual clothes, grabbed his bag, and headed out.
The morning air was fresh. Siles walked along 6 Hayward Street and soon arrived at the Folklore Society.
He asked the lobby reception on the first floor if Emmanuel was in. After receiving an affirmative reply, he went up to the second floor. His identity as a Lamifa University professor afforded him great convenience; without it, he likely wouldn’t have been able to move through the Folklore Society so freely.
It was the same office on the second floor. After Siles knocked, there was a brief pause before a hoarse “Come in” sounded from within. This made Siles frown slightly.
He turned the doorknob, walked in, and was taken aback.
Compared to their last meeting, Emmanuel looked much older. His eyes were exhausted as he kept his head down, writing rapidly on paper. Catching a glimpse of the parchment-bound travelogue right in front of him, Siles immediately understood—Emmanuel had been translating here since the crack of dawn.
…It wasn’t necessarily because he was hardworking, responsible, or placed great importance on the translation itself. Rather, it was because he wanted to finish the translation as quickly as possible so he could leave for the Emberlands. Siles was well aware of this.
“…Oh, Professor Noel… good morning.” Emmanuel looked up, habitually glancing at the visitor, only to be momentarily flustered when he saw it was Siles.
Siles stood in the doorway for a moment before letting out a faint sigh. “I am beginning to doubt whether handing this travelogue to you was a good thing, Emmanuel. Good morning.”
Emmanuel immediately shook his head. “You cannot take it back.”
Siles knew he couldn’t persuade Emmanuel. At this moment, Emmanuel’s heart was filled with yearning for his older brother Isherwood, guilt toward his deceased companions, and hatred for the “Non-existent City.”
He was madly desperate to go to the Emberlands, madly desperate to unravel the mystery, and even willing to use his own death as a send-off for his brother and comrades.
It was only his last shred of reason and lucidity that kept him here to fulfill the task he had promised Siles. Once the translation was finished, it was likely no one would be able to stop him.
…The only possible candidate, Alfonso Carlyle, had instead been shaken himself by Emmanuel’s actions.
Siles was powerless regarding their past grievances.
He simply said, “I came this time to tell you that tomorrow at 1:00 PM, at Atherton Square…” He paused, then gave the address of the restaurant. “The merchant and the publisher will be waiting for us.”
“…The merchant?” Emmanuel asked. “Tomorrow afternoon… tomorrow afternoon is absolutely fine. I mean, the merchant… is he the one you mentioned before?”
“Yes,” Siles nodded. “He is the one who obtained this travelogue from an explorer and sold it to me.”
A look of sudden, pleasant surprise burst forth in Emmanuel’s eyes. He muttered to himself, “Then I can ask him where he met the explorer, whether he heard anything about his past experiences. There are some segments in the travelogue that aren’t very clear…”
He mumbled on for a bit. A moment later, he abruptly snapped back to reality and said with an apologetic tone, “Sorry, I just…”
“I understand how you feel,” Siles said, carefully weighing his words. “However, the dead are gone. I believe your brother would also prefer that you live your life well.”
“…Bearing the weight of his death, and the deaths of our other companions?” Emmanuel’s tone was low and suppressed. “I don’t think I can do that. Even though Isherwood did not die because of me, my companions…
“I imagine Alfonso has already told you something about… our past experiences. He must surely still blame me for what happened… for my recklessness and rashness. Those lives… they were not weightless things.
“I don’t mean to direct this at you, but… you cannot possibly put yourself in my shoes, nor can you understand that those events from back then… are like a long, dead, silent shadow draped over me, something I can never shake off for the rest of my life…”
He poured his heart out. It wasn’t so much that he hoped Siles could understand him; rather, he simply needed someone to listen to these long-repressed emotions and psychological burdens.
Siles asked, “Are you resolved to die?”
Emmanuel stared at him blankly. After a moment, he nodded slowly and firmly.
“I have barely scraped by for many years,” he murmured softly. “I have lived enough.”
Siles sighed softly and said no more. He bid Emmanuel farewell and left the Folklore Society.
Only after walking along the autumn tree-lined avenue for some time did Siles feel that heavy emotion gradually recede from him. He thought that Emmanuel’s choice wasn’t incomprehensible.
It was just that he couldn’t bear to watch a life seek death… especially when it was indirectly due to his own factors. Even though he couldn’t possibly have known the contents of the travelogue when he handed it to Emmanuel.
…Regardless, he would deal with it after tomorrow’s meeting.
Siles found a rental carriage at the corner of the street and headed non-stop to the Fenn residence.
Fortunately, Bertram Fenn was indeed at home.
“Siles.” Mrs. Fenn, who opened the door, was a bit surprised. “What’s wrong? Visiting at this hour, has something happened?”
“You could say that,” Siles said. “Is your husband home?”
“Bertram?” Mrs. Fenn looked a bit confused. She turned and called into the house, “Bertram!”
Then, turning back to Siles, she said, “He’s home. Anthony is finishing his homework under the tutor’s supervision, and Bertram is in there too. I am very grateful for your suggestion; Anthony has been studying much harder lately.”
Siles smiled faintly and said, “Anthony is a smart child. He will understand your good intentions.”
Starting his studies so early… Anthony truly has undergone a transformation, he thought.
After exchanging a couple of sentences, Bertram Fenn walked downstairs.
“Siles!” Bertram said. “What brings you here? Has something happened?”
The couple asked virtually the exact same questions.
Siles nodded at him and said, “Bertram, have you read the newspapers? Did you hear about what happened at Food Town yesterday?”
“…What?” Bertram reacted sluggishly. “No. What happened? What’s wrong with Food Town? I was just planning to take Irene and Anthony there for a visit… perhaps in a couple of days.”
Irene was Mrs. Fenn’s given name.
“I sincerely advise you not to go,” Siles said. “I went there with a friend yesterday, and… some things happened.”
Realizing the severity of the issue, Bertram grew serious.
He invited Siles to sit on the living room sofa, and he and Mrs. Fenn sat down as well.
Bertram said, “I know Food Town’s business has been booming lately. Was there a problem with the food?”
“Not quite,” Siles said. “On the contrary, people’s pursuit of that food has become excessively frantic.”
Bertram looked a little surprised. “Even so… Siles, I think it’s normal for people to enjoy tasting good food.” He joked, “Just like how I was madly missing my wife’s cooking when I was in the Emberlands.”
He smiled at Mrs. Fenn.
Siles gave the couple a moment before saying, “Yesterday afternoon, those diners came to blows and even piled up human walls just to fight over the food… Do you still think that’s normal?”
Bertram immediately showed an expression of shock. He frowned. “That is definitely not right.” He paused, then added, “Could it be that those people already had conflicts and grudges to begin with?”
Siles said deeply, “Tens of thousands of people… all acting the exact same way.”
Beside them, Mrs. Fenn gasped and revealed a panicked expression. “So crazy! That’s unbelievable… Bertram, I’m afraid we really shouldn’t take Anthony there.”
Bertram comforted his wife, then said, “I think what Siles means is…”
With a slightly probing tone, Siles asked, “When you were in the Emberlands, did you encounter any… specific dangers?”
Bertram hesitated, then said, “You mean… those old god followers?”
As long as he knows. Siles let out a huge sigh of relief.
He then said, “I suspect the mastermind behind the scenes is using this opportunity to…” He chose his words carefully, “…brew some sort of conspiracy.”
Bertram looked thoughtful.
A moment later, he said, “You suspect Greyson Company?”
Siles nodded, not hiding the fact.
He said, “Don’t you feel that Greyson’s business expansion in West City has been a bit too easy? Furthermore, the public’s pursuit of Greyson’s ingredients and prepared foods is overly fanatical.”
“Greyson…” Bertram thought for a moment. “True. The amount of that dividend was also a bit exaggerated.”
Siles asked, “You mentioned before that you have a friend working at Greyson?”
“Yes, the merchant who discovered several recipes in the Emberlands,” Bertram said. “I do trust his character… however, your words have raised some doubts in my mind as well.
“In fact, I can only trust him; I cannot trust the moral standards of the entire Greyson Company. Though I don’t like to speak so bluntly, some merchants truly lack any moral compass.”
Siles asked, “Have you interacted with anyone else from Greyson Company?”
“I’ve interacted with one of the managers… He’s somewhat plump and likes to wear suits.” Bertram thought for a while. “He always wears a brooch on his lapel…”
Siles finished, “A brooch depicting a tipped scale?”
“How did you know!” Bertram said in surprise.
“After the incident at Food Town yesterday, he was the one who came forward to coordinate the matter,” Siles said in a low voice. “What is his name?”
“Bill Beaumont,” Bertram said. “He has people call him Billy.”
“What was your impression of him?”
“Hard to say,” Bertram answered. “He’s just a typical businessman, though probably not one who made his fortune in the Emberlands, but rather a professional manager in Lamifa City. He was hired.
“He’s responsible for managing the company and maintaining its daily operations and development, but he isn’t the owner. You can tell from the tone he uses when communicating with other investors.”
Siles understood. “So he isn’t the true master of Greyson Company.” He paused. “Then have you met the true owner of Greyson?”
“No,” Bertram said. “I doubt many people have. It’s always this Billy who comes forward to coordinate everything. At the time, everyone guessed it might be some major figure within the government of the Duchy of Konst, making it inconvenient for them to show their face. But…”
“That is one possibility,” Siles said.
Bertram hesitated repeatedly before asking, “Do you really think the events at Food Town might be the work of… mystical forces?”
Siles was taken aback.
Bertram continued, “Could it be some form of vicious commercial competition?”
Siles was just about to refute this but suddenly stopped.
Bertram’s guess didn’t seem entirely impossible. This was the natural conclusion reached from the perspective of a merchant and operator. Of course, Siles also knew that Bertram made this guess because he wasn’t at the scene yesterday.
If he had been there to witness the crazed, exaggerated behavior of those ordinary people, he would definitely have reached the same conclusion as the other Illuminators—that some hidden power was at work.
However, based purely on Siles’s account, Bertram wondered if competitors had noticed Food Town’s booming development and promising prospects, and decided to intentionally cause trouble during its rise.
This certainly wasn’t impossible.
Greyson Food Company had monopolized more than half of the raw ingredients and prepared foods in West City, and even the supply chains for taverns and restaurants. For many food companies and processing factories in East City, their profits had already suffered significantly.
And now, Greyson wanted to expand into the East City market through Food Town, the October Market, and other means.
Losing West City customers might not be a fatal blow to some merchants, but the East City market was a different story entirely.
If Greyson Food Company successfully monopolized the entire food and beverage industry of Lamifa City… that would not be good news.
Siles paused for a moment, then said, “You make a fair point. That is a possibility I overlooked.”
Of course, he still firmly believed that mystical forces… Illuminators or old god followers… were behind it. However, if it truly was vicious commercial competition, then it might not necessarily be tied to the resurrection of an old god.
It was entirely possible that Greyson’s competitors had simply hired a powerful Illuminator to act behind the scenes, making people go crazy over Greyson’s food.
Extremes breed reversals. The next step would perhaps be for Greyson’s competitors to start spreading rumors that Greyson’s food drives people insane—claiming “Eating Greyson’s food turns you into a lunatic” or “Greyson’s food is addictive.”
This would obviously decimate Greyson’s reputation.
Compared to the baseless claim of “hidden forces,” this theory of commercial competition seemed much more logical and grounded.
Seeing Siles acknowledge his theory, Bertram also looked relieved. He laughed and said, “You gave me a fright. If there were old god followers active inside Lamifa City, that would be far too dangerous.”
Siles: “…”
But there ARE old god followers active in Lamifa City, he thought. It was just that they maintained a delicate, unspoken agreement with the official authorities of the Duchy of Konst—if you don’t cause trouble, we won’t bother you.
The only question was, were there old god followers who genuinely intended to resurrect their god?
Siles left the Fenn household carrying this doubt.
Mrs. Fenn wanted him to stay for lunch, but Siles still had many uncompleted tasks, so he politely declined.
“Then come over for a meal in a couple of days, Siles,” Mrs. Fenn said. “I keep forgetting to mention this to you. Look at my memory—the doctor was absolutely right.
“I am so grateful to you for helping me bring little Anthony back that time. Living alone in Lamifa City, friends always need to look out for one another. If you have time, come over and eat.”
Siles naturally agreed. Before leaving, he added, “However, I still believe you should stay away from the southern suburbs.”
“I understand,” Bertram said.
After leaving the Fenn residence, Siles returned to Lamifa University. Along the way, he pondered over what exactly was hiding behind the Food Town incident. Bertram’s theory of vicious commercial competition seemed the more plausible explanation.
But…
Even if it was vicious commercial competition, was it necessary to escalate the situation to such a massive scale?
Siles believed that if Illuminators hadn’t been present yesterday, and if there hadn’t been that sound-amplifying ritual, the situation would absolutely have spiraled out of control. The maddened crowd would have slaughtered each other fighting over the food.
That would have been a chaotic brawl involving thousands of ordinary civilians.
Even if Greyson’s competitors wanted to ruin Greyson, they wouldn’t go to such extremes. If there were truly heavy casualties, and if their methods were exposed, it would be mutually assured destruction.
…Out of control. Siles realized this point in hindsight.
The entire event could be viewed from two angles. One was Food Town and the forces behind it—whether it was Greyson or some old god followers, this was one possibility. The other was the opposition to Food Town and its backers.
Regardless of which side caused the incident, neither could possibly have wanted the situation to spiral out of control to the extent it did yesterday. Tens of thousands of ordinary people devolving into a frenzied free-for-all—that was terrifying, and it would obviously invite severe condemnation and thorough investigation from the authorities.
No matter which side it was, what they were trying to do wasn’t something that could withstand the light of day.
If they were resurrecting an old god, since they had already assumed the guise of a food company, they must be trying to pull off a bait-and-switch under the radar; they couldn’t afford to be so flashy and flamboyant.
If they were trying to ruin a competitor, then they should have acted even more carefully to avoid leaving behind any evidence.
Therefore, the situation escalating to yesterday’s degree was something neither of the prime suspects could have hoped for. In other words… something went wrong.
What exactly went wrong? Siles wondered.
Did a third party intervene to fish in troubled waters? Did Food Town’s explosive popularity catch even the mastermind off guard? Or did they accidentally trigger some massive, unfathomable ritual?
Siles thought about this, then felt that purely speculating like this was completely meaningless.
He couldn’t find any evidence at all. Furthermore, even if he found evidence, he had no way to stand against the potential mastermind. He was just analyzing things here, vainly trying to discover the truth.
Siles sighed inwardly. The moment he stepped out of the rental carriage, he dropped all the worries weighing on his mind.
Better to focus on studying my thesis. That’s directly tied to my academic tasks.
After eating lunch at the cafeteria and returning to his dorm, Siles opened the two books he had previously obtained from Professor Calverley: On the Journey and The Fate of the Poet.
These were both books he had never read before. Upon seeing the titles, he had guessed the former was a travelogue and the latter a biography, and opening them proved him right. However, the contents deviated slightly from his expectations.
The author of On the Journey, Jacob Farley, was not from the contemporary era, but from the distant Era of Empire. He was a devout follower of Ligadia, the God of Leaving Home and Journeys.
According to the introduction on the book’s flap, Jacob remained unmarried his entire life, with no wife or children. He wandered all over the world, compiling his experiences into a book titled On the Journey, which detailed many of his thoughts and realizations regarding Ligadia.
However, because the era was too ancient, many parts of the book had been lost over the long river of history. Ultimately, only this thin volume remained, compiled and published by a contemporary publisher.
Due to the vast amount of missing content, even though this book could be considered a Time Trace, it wouldn’t cause any major impact. Furthermore, the missing sections rendered much of the surviving text vague, making it entirely unclear what the author was referring to.
Despite these regrets, Siles’s interest in reading the book remained undiminished.
To the followers of Ligadia, the journey was like a habit. They were accustomed to setting foot on unfamiliar lands and stopping to admire scenery they had never laid eyes on. Their lives carried an inextinguishable curiosity and desire to explore the outside world.
Driven by this stubborn faith, every follower of Ligadia would embark on a journey to explore foreign lands. In this book, Jacob described the scenery of the lands he had visited in vivid detail.
Because many parts were missing, Siles couldn’t know the exact locations of these lands. This was indeed a pity.
What particularly caught his attention was a description related to the sea.
“…
There is a lighthouse by the sea. The resident of the lighthouse told me that there is fog on the sea, and deep within the fog lies a giant snake. The giant snake rests on an island formed from a whale. The island is a northern paradise. The northern paradise is untouched by the invasion of cold winds.
…”
These few short lines gave Siles pause for a long time.
A lighthouse was a structure meant to guide voyaging fishermen. In other words, the “resident of the lighthouse” should be the lighthouse keeper, who learned this information about the sea from the fishermen.
An island inhabited by a fog snake that was a northern paradise untouched by cold winds. Siles wondered, Is this influenced by ocean currents?
Truthfully, he really wanted to utilize his high school geography knowledge to analyze the ocean currents and monsoons of this world. Unfortunately, he had forgotten it all right after the college entrance exams.
…The internet, oh the internet. Siles lamented. How he wished this era would fast-forward to the internet age. Information everywhere, ready to be picked up with just a reach of the hand.
This almost mythical legend piqued Siles’s interest. He wanted to know if Jacob subsequently embarked on a journey to find the northern paradise, but unfortunately, the succeeding sections were missing.
This greatly dampened Siles’s enthusiasm, making him think of another author the original Siles had studied—Conan Fremont. Much of his work had also been lost.
But… his thoughts took a turn.
The existing works of Fremont were pieced together from fragments, manuscripts, and other people’s copies. However, that was only on the surface. There might be private collectors in the world who possessed other parts of Conan Fremont’s works.
For example, Professor Calverley?
Siles thought that perhaps he could visit Calverley under this pretext in the future. A friendship with a book collector was something well worth maintaining.
After finishing On the Journey, Siles had a much better understanding of the followers of Ligadia during the Era of Empire. This was a work he could absolutely include in his thesis bibliography.
However, he couldn’t help but think: from devout believers exploring different corners of the world in the Era of Empire, to destitute, poverty-stricken wandering poets addicted to alcohol in the Era of Silence… this difference and transformation was simply too extreme.
What exactly happened during the Era of Shadows? Why did Ligadia vanish without a trace back then?
Jean Calder had once mentioned in his rather facetious book, Gods and Believers in the Shadows, that Ligadia went on vacation during that time. Siles actually found himself hoping that this seemingly unreliable claim was true.
At least it wouldn’t be quite so cruel.
Lately, Siles had been studying texts and works related to Ligadia and His followers for a long time. Coupled with the fact that he himself was an outlander far from home, he inevitably felt a touch of sentimentality toward this god.
The Blessed One of travelers on the journey. This was how people thought of Ligadia, carrying a simple, sincere wish and prayer. Siles wouldn’t put his faith in a god, but he acknowledged the existence of such simple wishes.
If Ligadia’s power truly still existed in this world, then Siles rather hoped He would offer him some protection—at least enough to ensure his journey through the Fisher World went smoothly.
The other book, The Fate of the Poet, was vastly different in content from On the Journey.
The author, Archibald Jon, was a resident of the Duchy of Konst, born in the first century of the Era of Mist. He had long since been laid to rest in the earth, but the contents of his book still felt… overly harsh.
It was a stark contrast to the peaceful, unhurried atmosphere of Jacob Farley’s writing.
Archibald’s diction was biting and sarcastic. It was glaringly obvious that he did not like poetry or poets. He described them as “pretentious trash wasting air and food” and “playboys who spend all day reciting clichés and romantic nonsense.”
These words left Siles not knowing whether to laugh or cry.
Archibald mentioned several different poets in the book, but one in particular drew Siles’s focused attention—Aldous Gershwin.
This was the exact wandering poet mentioned in Karacoc’s Diary, and likely the author of the two poems Siles currently possessed. Siles hadn’t expected to find text relating to Aldous in this book.
He immediately focused on reading, taking notes on some of the valuable information.
According to Archibald, the reason he knew of Aldous Gershwin’s existence was because he had a friend from the Duchy of Kansas. This friend’s family had existed since the nation was nothing more than a single city.
Therefore, this family’s archives housed many documents and records relating to the era of Kansas City.
Such ancient families were common in the Fisher World. However, migrating from Kansas to Konst was relatively rare. Of course, it wasn’t unheard of—for example, Brewer Darrow’s family.
Although Brewer hadn’t explicitly stated why his family migrated to the Duchy of Konst, Siles had his theories.
This world also held deep attachments to their homelands, and rooted in that land was the family’s honor and legacy. Because of this, very few families were willing to completely sever ties with their ancestral soil.
If a family chose to migrate, a major upheaval must have occurred in their place of origin.
Archibald didn’t introduce this friend too much in his book. He simply stated that they had known each other since childhood, so he often read books in the family’s library. There, he inadvertently discovered an unpublished manuscript of a recorded conversation.
The two parties in the conversation were an ancestor of this family and Aldous Gershwin.
This ancestor seemed to be a noble who was quite curious and interested in the lower-class citizens. Thus, at the time, he frequently visited taverns to drink or chat with commoners to understand their lives.
This recorded conversation was born in just such an atmosphere.
To the Sardinian Empire of that time, a poet or man of letters was a highly respected identity. Therefore, a destitute, lower-class poet had caught the noble’s attention.
Perhaps his original intention was to publish this transcript. However, due to unknown subjective or objective factors, this manuscript gathered dust for centuries until it was discovered by Archibald, who then repurposed it for a rather mocking and sarcastic biography of poets.
Siles didn’t know too much about literature from the Era of Mist, but he understood the basic theories. He had somewhat of an idea as to why Archibald harbored such a bizarre prejudice and impression of the poet demographic.
At the very beginning of the Era of Mist, as people gradually regained their confidence in life after the fog dissipated, they unconsciously feared and repulsed everything that had happened in the past.
They focused entirely on the task of rebuilding civilization, constantly—and necessarily—maintaining an extreme devotion to life and work. Because they needed to survive during that time.
The past remained forever shrouded in layers of fog. For ordinary urban and rural residents, they were not all that eager to discuss the Emberlands, the fog, or the lands and civilizations once covered by it.
Those things were the discarded past.
Driven by this sentiment, many literary works were consequently banished to the cold palace.
Only in the past century or two, as human life stabilized and gradually developed, did people begin to examine the past with a normal, objective attitude. Be it fear or despair, the fog had indeed occurred in this world.
Archibald’s sarcastic tone and his disgust toward poets for “not engaging in practical work” likely largely reflected the mentality of the early Era of Mist.
Regardless, people from different eras hold different values and thoughts. Siles merely hoped to glean the information he needed from this book, and cast a curious glance at the mindset of a writer from a specific moment in the past.
The conversation between Aldous Gershwin and this unnamed ancestor took place when the poet was forty years old. According to the transcript, Aldous had already been in Kansas City for nearly five years.
“…So why did you come to Kansas City?”
“Because… the guidance of fate?” the poet said. “I have chosen this place as the site of my grave. My love also sleeps eternally here.”
“Do poets always speak so cryptically?”
“Perhaps you don’t need to treat me as a poet. There is no difference between what I do every day and what you do.”
“For instance?”
“Drinking. Missing my love. Eating. Sleeping. Chatting with people in the tavern. Aside from my love, you probably engage in all the other activities as well.”
“That is true. But don’t you want to change your lifestyle?”
“I reminisce about my love in the endless flow of time. A lifestyle is merely a burden. My soul clearly knows what I want to do, and the future that awaits me.”
“…I think I’ll just stick to treating you as a poet.”
“You are a noble. Why do you come to a place like this to drink all day?”
“Because… I want to see the lives of people different from me.”
“And the result?”
“It doesn’t seem to be too different. Only our living standards…”
“Oh, everyone here is completely destitute. You should be able to see that. We might be drinking at the same time, but what you drink is worth a fortune, while what I drink wouldn’t matter if you poured it out as wastewater into the river.”
“What do you want to drink?”
“N-no need for you to treat me. The river’s wastewater is also quite flavorful to me.”
“…So how do you make money?”
“Some people—like you—are happy to treat me. Sometimes people hear my poems, think they are well-written, and give me some money.”
“Don’t you feel…”
“Life is meaningless to me. Life itself is the meaning.”
“…Why?”
“My love wished for me to live a normal life. However, for us, wandering in different places is the meaning of life. We choose the location of our own graves. My love died here, so I will die here as well.”
“Does that count as a normal life? And… ‘us’?”
“Us. Yes, us. We are a… group. If you know of some tribes living outside this country, then you will understand. Choosing the site of our own graves is our custom. And we are destined to die in a foreign land.”
“I don’t understand why anyone would be destined to drift and wander, and die in a foreign land.”
“Oh, you are a noble. Of course, you value your family’s honor. You were born here and grew up here. Your family, your friends, your career, your joys, your sorrows… everything you have is here. You are a local.”
“Indeed.”
“But we… we are different. We have no hometown. So we can only choose to wander. Wandering is our destined fate. We are destined to be from a foreign land.”
“But there must be a place for you in this world. What about your tribe?”
“…Our… He abandoned us.”
“…Abandoned? You mean, the god you worship?”
“It is not merely worship. Nor is it merely abandonment. I cannot say much more about this matter. Regardless, we are still practicing our code. Since He left…”
“In this form of wandering and selecting your own graves? I cannot understand…”
“What we worship is not a god, but the rules within our hearts. Perhaps I should say it like this: I intend to behold scenery I have never beheld; I intend to set foot on lands I have never stepped upon.”
“You crave novelty?”
“It is not merely novelty. It is… a foreign land. Only when you go to a foreign land can you truly understand where you come from. Just like how you want to come see people different from you. Only by seeing us do you realize what you yourself are truly like.”
“Perhaps. But why must you die in a foreign land?”
“…God’s Paradise… only takes in… those souls who die in a foreign land.” The poet was half-drunk, his words slurring. “This is… God’s… requirement…”
Reading this, Siles abruptly froze.
God’s Paradise only takes in those souls who die in a foreign land.
God’s Paradise… what was that?
Setting aside that specific line, the conversation between Aldous Gershwin and the noble had also revealed a wealth of information.
He could be almost certain that Aldous Gershwin and the other wandering poets all hailed from the same tribe, and that tribe was under Ligadia’s protection. That was obvious.
Of course, he hadn’t found any direct evidence, as Aldous Gershwin hadn’t explicitly stated the divine name Ligadia. However, Siles guessed this and was certain of it. There couldn’t possibly be a second god in this world with a Divinity similar to Ligadia’s.
Aldous’s words revealed many beliefs and philosophies, more than enough for Siles to analyze and compare in his thesis. Thanks to Archibald directly excerpting large portions of the transcript, it provided Siles with immense convenience.
Aside from helping with his thesis, the vague discussion regarding Ligadia in the transcript also caught Siles’s attention.
Aldous said Ligadia abandoned them. Was this phrasing based on the god’s fall, or something else?
Unfortunately, there was no recorded historical account of the exact time of Ligadia’s fall, leaving Siles somewhat at a loss on where to start. He wished to obtain more information regarding Aldous’s tribe and Ligadia.
…If only I could get my hands on the complete, original manuscript of this transcript. Siles sighed, indulging in a bit of wishful thinking.
He skimmed through the rest of The Fate of the Poet. When the sky grew dark, he placed the two books back into the bookcase, took off his glasses, and stood quietly by the window, gazing out at the distant scenery.
He thought about God’s Paradise.
This phrasing was truly unusual, making Siles uncontrollably associate it with countless possibilities.
Just like how people on Earth often spoke of Heaven and Hell. This “Paradise” seemed to be the place believers hoped to reach after death; otherwise, Aldous wouldn’t have said “dying in a foreign land is God’s requirement.”
But, “God’s” Paradise?
Did this “God” specifically refer to Ligadia, or was it a general term? Did the words “God’s Paradise” have a specific designation, or did other gods possess “Paradises” as well?
Like… that isolated island situated above an endless sea he had once visited in his dreams?
The old gods had already fallen, so did their Paradises still exist? Siles made his conjectures, yet found it difficult to obtain a definitive answer.
