Chapter. 12. Lettuce to Windmage (1)
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Innkeeper Hans.
As a veteran resident of Wind Hall village for over 10 years, a retired Class A mercenary, and the current owner of Wind Hall’s only inn, he was able to quickly calm himself down.
In fact, when he thought about the fact that his tackle with all his might did not have any impact on the large man wearing a priest’s uniform in front of him, it occurred to him that this man was also a magician anyway.
Hans took out a thick storybook that he had bought for his future wife and grandchildren ever since he took over and settled down in this strangely cheap inn.
I didn’t know what kind of trouble I would face if I chased out the wizard. But I felt like I had to teach him properly, because if I left him alone, he might ruin his inn with a single gesture like that.
The professor’s group had all come down after hearing the commotion, so it was also helpful that they were able to talk at once.
“So… Professor Magic Saint Hero?”
“Just call me Professor.”
“Yes yes. So…how much do you know about Felix Drixiel? Are you sure you don’t even know his ‘letter magic’?”
“I’m not from here, so all I know is that they ate the dragon’s tail meat and the eyeballs and arms. Doesn’t everyone know to begin with? People in the Empire believe in the superstition that if you talk about a wizard, the wizard will come to you. That’s why even if wizards cause trouble all over the place, rumors don’t spread.”
The inn owner said that of course everyone didn’t know.
“hmm? “Professor… you don’t even know that?”
“yes?”
“Hero…did you just come out of training in a mountain valley somewhere? Even if they are not from the Empire, is there anyone in the world who does not know the Empire’s ‘letter magic’?”
“Leader. “Even I, who lived in the forest and just came out to the human world, knows that much.”
“It’s a flying letter from the empire… I heard about it from the village elders. “It’s the legacy of the archmage.”
Even if Lucilla and Ottman are like that. From Borka to Hydrasil?
Somehow it felt like everyone knew it except me.
Aldrich said, ‘Such an idiot is the leader of the party.’ He’s looking at me with those eyes, but honestly, it’s a bit unfair to be treated like a fool. Since the NPCs are residents of this place, they may know about ‘Flying Letters from the Empire’ through common sense. But I am a real resident who has only just started living here. Could it be that I don’t know something that is common sense here, just like people here don’t know what gasoline is?
Anyway, amidst the pitiful looks from his companions, the innkeeper sighed and opened the book.
“Then I guess I’ll have to explain it from the beginning. Let’s see…”
Palak –
Hans, a retired mercenary, opened the storybook with a sad thought, thinking, ‘I thought I would read this book for the first time at the bedside of my rabbit-like children.’
“A long time ago, there lived a great wizard of the wind named Felix Drixiel…”
=========
“My dear friend Randolph.”
“Don’t do it. Please Felix, please!”
“Uhm… I’m sorry. You know it too. “What kind of person am I?”
Randolph was most afraid of that horse in the world. Because Felix always said something terrible after that.
“D’Bois, who takes care of the damn shepherd and the squire. “What is it today?”
“Well… I wanted to receive a letter.”
“Suddenly?”
“okay. “As always.”
Randolph, the squire who came with his honorary knighthood, cursed his fate for being tied to the world’s most mysterious wizard.
Of course, even though he was an eccentric wizard, he was good to him, and since the five years since we were together, he has always called him ‘my friend Randolph’ (before that, he called him Slow Flesh), and even if he goes beyond the relationship of squire and knight and speaks of double insults, no one Although he was a decent boss who didn’t say much.
As someone who has to report each fief’s astronomical claims for damages by magic telegram every day to the fearsome chancellor of the imperial palace. Some say he should be hanged as soon as he is found, and as a person who receives dozens of letters a day telling me to stop it at all costs because even if it doesn’t work as an archmage, I can kill you, my wish was for that old wizard to settle down somewhere and live like a rat.
Fortunately, today’s ‘impulse that came with the wind’ was rather calm.
“Ugh. What else can I say? I took it for ten years. Seong-eun is devastated, Felix. “I’m not good at calligraphy, but I’ve learned how to write, so until you’re satisfied-” “
No, no, that’s no different from the [Wind Message] magic I share with you every time I run away. I want to receive a real letter. “You prepare a pen and paper, write with ink and your heart, fill in your wishes, and travel around the world in a letter that is delivered to that person!”
“So… you mean the kind sent by nobles?”
“okay! I’m living an ordinary life without thinking, and one day, a letter arrives at my doorstep like a gift. Traditional and romantic. Isn’t it? “These things really get better as people get older!”
“Oh yeah whatever. “But isn’t there a problem?”
“what?”
“[Where you live]. There’s no way a person who wanders around and can’t sleep would have an address to receive letters, right? Every time an ex-pat comes to me, I form a group of five or six people and go searching. Where can I get a letter? “He doesn’t even have a home.”
“I know that, but I’m not asking you, Randolph. “What could be better?”
“Uh… what if I say I’m not there?”
“Well. If there is no ‘good number’… a ‘bad number’ will take its place.”
“Oh my god, d’Bois.”
========
“For your information, the ‘bad move’ that Felix mentioned here means that when Felix Drixiel wanted to see snow in the summer, Felix could not control the urge when the squire, who was suffering from fever at the time, could not make a sharp move. Just think of the incident that brought all the cold air from the north. That year, imperial wheat production fell by 20%, and the angry emperor ordered the Knights of the Guard to capture him. After about five years of pursuit, Felix was surrounded by dozens of sword masters and had no choice but to work as a court wizard for the empire for three years. .”
The innkeeper was unusually good at telling stories about whether he doubled as a bard, and even the professor who didn’t know the story and the companions who already knew the story were engrossed in his story while listening to the noisy rustling outside the window.
“They considered it as just 3 years of work? One-fifth of the empire’s annual crops were lost? Isn’t it just a question of food? At that level, the stored military supplies would have to be released, military power would be reduced, public sentiment would become uneasy, and the uncivilized people would swear at the emperor, saying that God was angry, right?”
“That’s what [An Archmage] is. It is said that during the three years he worked as a court wizard, farmers did not have to sow seeds. It is said that the wind swept all over the country and spread wheat seeds across the mountains and fields of the empire. Well, it would take a long time to talk about that, but that’s not what’s important right now, so move on.”
“so. How was that ‘impulse’ ultimately resolved?”
In response to the professor’s question, the innkeeper Hans pointed to the group of letters unfolding beyond the window.
“As you can see. It was resolved in the most ideal way. “After his death.”
“After death… So you didn’t achieve it until you died?”
“Rather, it is said that the impulse itself was the final origin of the Archmage who sensed that his life was coming to an end. By exchanging bodies with a dragon, he was able to see through heaven’s energy, but the limbs he took in return were only symbolic. What it really took away was a lot of life.”
When I made water for the innkeeper, who was gulping and looking around, he took it cautiously and drank it, and continued to explain diligently, even making hand gestures.
“According to the ‘Biography of Felix Drixiel’ written by his squire Randolph after his death, he loved the wind to the point of reaching the 8th rank, but on the other hand, he was also a very affectionate person who was very saddened by his fate of wandering forever and never being able to settle down. In the end, it is said that in his later years, when he expressed ‘I want to receive a letter,’ he was expressing his wish that there would be a place to return to for himself and for the wind wizards who had the same fate.”
And wizards were people who made the pictures they had drawn in their minds into reality. The stronger you want it, the stronger the spell you create.
‘I want to receive a letter.’ It was his last impulse, hoping that there would be a place where someone he had longed for all his life could come to visit him at any time.
“After his death, his squire Randolph said, ‘He went away suddenly, as always, and gave me no time to prepare or mourn his death. Instead, he left behind a legacy that will be remembered forever.’ “It is said that he wrote it in his autobiography.”
“Then what is the legacy…?”
“yes. This is Felix Home, the home of the wind wizards in Wuthering Heights. It is said that the building, which acts as a magical totem in itself, casts a spell on the entire empire according to the wishes of the archmage.”
Hans said that seeing is faster than explaining with words, so he took out a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket and then took a piece of charcoal from the stove.
“Let’s see… there’s a wizard. “What’s your name?”
“Otman. “It’s Ottoman Baudelaire.”
“Ottman… Baudelaire. Now, write like this [Hans of the Windhall Inn to Ottoman Baudelaire] and then fold it twice.”
Hans waved the twice-folded paper in front of the professor, then held the letter out the window he had broken and said:
“Then we recite the promised spell. [Sending a letter to the wind.]”
Whiuuuung-!
The moment the innkeeper finished speaking, a strong wind blew…
Whir!
Flak, flutter, flutter!
A crumpled letter roughly written in charcoal began to fly up the hill, flapping its wings vigorously in the wind.
“Then, as you can see, the archmage’s spell throughout the empire sends letters. It will ride the wind to the Windhole and be delivered to the wizard. It doesn’t matter where you send it. Whether it’s the imperial palace, Marquis Raspell, a back alley gutter, or a drug dealer’s den. “The wind can deliver any letter as long as there are three things: the sender, the receiver, and the desire for the other person to be happy to receive the letter.”
“It’s a great magic that is activated through the recipient, sender, and emotional conditions…”
I couldn’t even imagine what kind of imagery and magic I should use. A wizard manifests magic through clear understanding and imagery. Can you activate magic with only someone else’s emotions and their name? That it was continuously cast across the entire empire, and that it continued for more than several decades after his death?
It was magic on a scale that was incomprehensible to the professor’s magic knowledge.
“Anyway, all the letters flying out there are from all over the empire. When letters like that gather at Felix Home, the wizards who reside there sort out where they should go, edit letters that have been corrupted by magic due to being caught up in the magical currents of each place, or letters that float around Felix Home with the recipient’s name written incorrectly, and then send them back to the wind. “They used to ship it out.”
“It’s morning and evening… There is a delivery time of about a day, but it’s magic communication that anyone can use. “It’s huge.”
The professor seemed to understand what the ‘Imperial Important Facilities’ written in the information Dana sent meant and why harming those facilities was considered an attack on the Empire. This wizard named Felix Drixiel created an information network that spanned the entire empire, although he did not intend to do so.
Thanks to the magic of the Archmage, the information network that boasts strong security is protected by all wind mages who have been given the only resting place.
Considering the enormous military, economic, and political benefits it brought to the empire, there seemed to be ample reasons to protect it.
‘It’s a magic post office. I never imagined Wuthering Heights could be such a place. ‘Maybe it’s not as terrible a place as you think.’
The professor imagined Felix Home in his head. A magical sculpture made from the remains of an archmage. A businesslike and mysterious appearance, with letters flying in the wind like migratory birds and magicians floating among them busily sorting the letters.
It wasn’t a very bad image for a professor who was imagining something like ‘a mission to persuade a wild-haired wizard who goes berserk through a magical tower filled with a storm like a blender.’
Sigh-
“Wait a minute. “I want to ask you something.”
As the innkeeper paused for a moment, his interest was piqued and he was about to ask a few more questions, Borka, who had been strangely excited from earlier, quickly intervened and spoke.
“Those free-spirited wizards do such a thing properly? “Why don’t you suddenly throw it away on a whim?”
“of course. That’s the only duty they have to perform while living in Felix Home. Organizing and distributing the letters that arrive every morning. That is the lodging fee that wind wizards have to pay to use the nest that the archmage sacrificed his all to build.”
Phew!
Borka’s breathing became heavy at the innkeeper’s assurance.
“So… anyone within the empire can receive the letter?”
“Of course.”
Whoosh whoosh!
“everyone? Even if you are not a citizen of the empire? Even if those were my two children who were captured in the forest and sold here!!”
“Uh…maybe?”
Craddangtangtang!
The innkeeper, taken aback by the werewolf’s strong snoring, responded cautiously, and Borka, as if waiting for the answer, kicked out the door and ran out. Soon, there was a sound of something pouring and breaking outside, and a beautiful werewolf with torn paper and raw chicken feather ink in his arms burst into the smashed door.
His face was a mixture of joy and desperation.
“If anyone knows how to read, please write a letter! The sender is Borka Dalun and the recipient is Tushan Dalun Marka Dalun! “These are my children who were said to have been captured here!”
“….ah!”
“Oh oh! “There was a way!”
The professor, who instantly realized what Borka’s words meant, slapped his knee.
‘right! He came here looking for his children!’
Come to think of it, when choosing between elves or ancient humans from the Western Desert at the start of the Heroes’ Quest, I chose to go to the empire because of Borka.
I completely forgot, but it seems to happen automatically once you enter the imperial territory.
Borka was planning to send a letter to his children somewhere in the empire to find out their whereabouts.
If you’re lucky, you might get a reply and find out their location.
Even if there was no reply, he could at least let them know that he was in the empire and that he had not yet given up on his children.
and. Even in the worst case scenario…
“Innkeeper. Even if… all conditions were met. “If the recipient is not in the world…”
“Well… nothing happens.”
At least we can know that his journey is over.
“…Give it to me. “I will write it.”
Crunch Crunch Crunch Crunch Crunch Crunch Crunch Crunch Crunch Crunch Crunch Crunch Crunch Crunch Crunch Crunch Crunch Crunch Crunch Crunch Crunch Crunch Crunch Crunch Crunch Crunch Crunch Crunch Crunch Crunch Crunch Crunch Crunch Crunch Crunch –
While Ottman was writing down Borka’s words in the neat handwriting of a noble wizard, the werewolf’s voice was watery as he was pouring out his inner thoughts in a trembling voice as if nothing had happened.
widely.
“Ego. “It’s done.”
“Give it here.”
Borka carefully holds the letter Otman gave him in his arms. The werewolf finally opened his mouth, looking eagerly at the letter held in his hairy hand.
“[Sending a letter to Baram.]”
Whiuuuung-!
I’m afraid to run out of words. Before I had time to mentally prepare, the wind blew through the room.
Palak.
Riding the wind, a letter flew to his side. One sheet.
The group could not say anything in that quiet magical wind.
“….this.”
“Hey Borka. “This is…”
“Nothing.” Don’t do it. “Nothing.”
Snap-
pop- Sharp nails dug into his palm, causing blood to flow, but the werewolf stood there and said nothing. He is just staring at the letter that was left motionless. To face the reality that had been approaching only through painful imagination and determination for a long time.
Whiuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu
of that time.
….Palak.
The letter fluttered in the small wind that blew again. The moment the letter, like a child’s death notice, falls down helplessly, the werewolf reaches out to grab it without realizing it.
Pallak-pallak-
His bloody hand cut through the air and a paper was seen flying with difficulty above his unfocused eyes.
Two heart-filled letters and two spells.
“Oh oh. Oh oh oh….”
Borka eventually fell to his knees as he watched the two letters flying high into the sky with the wind.
“Congratulations. “I really… tried hard.”
Borka has been quietly doing his best as a member of the party. However, Otman, who knew what kind of feelings he had toward the empire, had no choice but to sincerely congratulate his two children for being alive.
“Uuuuuu! Uh …. Ah …. Wow …. ”
Leave the forest for 15 years. 4 years as a wanderer. Eight years as a gladiator. And after spending the last three years searching for a place to die, he was captured by the cult and brought here.
The residue of hope, worn and shattered over the years, flowed through his eyes. The werewolf was pinned to the spot and howled for a long time, out of gratitude for his children who survived those long years and apology for making him spend those painful years as a stranger.
Just a little more. Please stay healthy until we find them somewhere here. It’s okay to bite his neck and dig his nails into his chest, accusing him of being a parent who abandoned his child, but just once. I hope that just once, he can once again hold his living children in his arms.
The letter containing the werewolf’s origins only flew powerfully toward the blue winter sky.
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