Youngest 164
by Cristae164
The day we returned home!
For the last time, I went out in the capital with my older brothers, Khalid, and Grandfather, spending the day in town.
Void, thoroughly addicted to shopping, swept up all sorts of knickknacks, including diaries, while Liam, of course, was buried in a bookstore.
Grandfather raided the weapons shop, and Khalid, as always, watched disinterestedly as I browsed through things.
“You know, it’s strange. I haven’t bought anything, yet why do I have the most luggage?”
I muttered sincerely, looking at the piles of gift boxes stacking higher in the carriage.
“They’re multiplying.”
Dad said absently, lightly swinging me up into the carriage.
Inside, Mom, who had boarded earlier, was busily polishing her bow.
“Ruby, I think I really do need to teach you how to shoot properly when we’re back up north.”
“Okaaaay! Sounds great!”
“Hoho. Then I’ll have to ride my horse! I’m in such a good mood~”
And clean the roads while I’m at it~
Before Dad could even try to stop her, Mom leapt easily onto a horse.
Liam and Void were in the second carriage, while Khalid and Grandfather followed in the one right behind. (Sorry, Khalid… I’ll switch seats with you later.)
Comforting the Duke, who looked strangely melancholic with his wife gone, I unfolded a table and began writing letters to Sortier and Zerdin.
The carriage began to move.
After all the tumultuous things in the capital, I was finally going home!
“Ruby, your pouch feels a bit hot.”
Dad, sitting close beside me and criticizing my worm-like handwriting, spoke up.
“Huh?”
I hurriedly opened the small side bag slung across me. Inside, a scrap of paper was faintly buzzing.
“Oh, this. Magic paper…”
The edges of the sheet were burning slowly, tinged with blue.
A magical item that allowed simple communication with whoever possessed the other half.
It was almost disposable—once the mana embedded in the paper ran out, it was finished.
‘The woman who gave me this…’
She must have crossed the Babylon border by now.
“Mmm…”
After a furtive glance at Dad, I slowly set the paper on the table.
For some reason, using magic in front of Dad still felt a little embarrassing.
‘Of course, this is a mana-imbued magical tool, so I’m not actually using my own power.’
Still… somehow…
As I touched the paper, blue lettering floated up.
“Hah.”
Dad, resting his chin on his hand, let out a brief sigh. Then his large hand dropped heavily onto my head.
“To think such a brave, resourceful, and adorable little mage could be my daughter.”
It felt like… the list of adjectives was growing…
“Heh…”
“Still, that’s some impressive paper.”
“You can only exchange brief messages, but…”
He stared at the paper, now almost half the size of a bookshelf.
“So, did she get away cleanly? That woman.”
“…Yes! Thanks to you!”
On the paper, the message < Thank you, Rubian. > appeared.
That familiar handwriting was from the Second.
“Dad! You can’t kill her!”
That day, I barely managed to stop Dad from killing the Second.
His sharp blade had avoided any vital spot, striking only where her crest was.
It happened when the Mage King’s magic was at its peak.
I had immediately shattered the Second’s mana core.
As the vessel holding her power broke, the connection to the crest was severed, and the Mage King’s magic was instantly dispersed.
Of course… it had been a huge gamble.
A mage with a destroyed core could die at any moment.
‘But I’d had some experience back at Canalran Gorge…’
There had been occasions when I’d set some of the mage unit’s child soldiers free in that manner.
“…I shattered your mana core. Your injuries are grave; I truly don’t know how much longer you’ll last with such a feeble body, but…”
“Sob…”
“At least the crest should have lost its power.”
Dad, secretly, had someone bring her to the townhouse’s underground cell for treatment.
I’d pretended to stay secluded in my room as I watched over the Second.
“I want you to understand—that was my own way of repaying you for the information.”
The Second, who asked me to remove the crest.
The Second, who wished not to die in vain.
“When your wounds heal, run. If you want to live, find a nest of your own.”
“Seventh…”
“My name is Rubian.”
“…”
“Rubian Zevert. You should come up with a decent name, too. Ah, the one you put on your restorationist application wasn’t bad.”
She gritted her teeth and let the tears flow.
She was the woman who once stood at the Mage King’s right hand.
A bystander and hypocrite who valued her own life above all else, and yet—even so.
“Seventh, take this regenerative ointment. I’ll leave the recipe here, so take it with you.”
“…”
“Just don’t mention I gave it to you. Father doesn’t like me getting involved in these things…”
Sometimes, the hypocrisy carelessly tossed about in the Mage Kingdom would ease my suffocation just enough.
‘Still… who knows if she’ll get by, having lived her whole life in a palace.’
There could be a life ahead of her harsher than death itself.
Still, that’s her life now.
‘And it’s not like I was all goodness and mercy, saving the Second out of pure kindness.’
She was a woman who knew all kinds of things about the Mage Kingdom.
‘…Someday, when we bring down the Kingdom—’
The knowledge she possessed would surely be useful somehow.
There wasn’t much space left on the magic paper.
So we had agreed only to use it if absolutely necessary.
After some thought, I let my finger move at last.
There was one more thing I wanted to ask the Second.
< Do you… remember what I was like before I went to war? I mean, what I was like when I was very little… >
I wrote carefully so Dad wouldn’t notice.
< Like, who gave birth to me. >
My childhood, which I couldn’t remember.
One day, the question had sprung up.
A fundamental question, so obvious I wondered why I’d never thought of it before.
‘Was Wizeria there from the moment I was born…?’
Then where—where was this body born?
Blue text seeped into the paper.
Fssst. The edge glowed blue, burning away.
< No. >
The letters slowly appeared, hesitating.
< You… One day, the Mage King simply brought you in. No one knows your origins. >
I stared quietly at the paper.
< Still, I thought the Mage King might have whispered it to you… If you don’t know, then… >
Fssst.
Ash lifted from the paper and fluttered past the window.
< Then where did you come from? >
Khalid, in the jolting carriage, sat with hands clamped over his ears.
“You brat! I’m talking here—what’s with that look on your face like you don’t want to hear a word?!”
“Please, just leave me alone…”
“What’s this! Now, saying that only makes me want to pester you more!”
“Ah!”
Ruby, please, switch seats with me…
Khalid writhed in torment.
“Your Grace, your Grace. Please, take a look at these blueprints. The capital’s shop had some impressive new arrivals, didn’t they?”
Fortunately, Morris came to Khalid’s rescue.
“Hmph. That’s true. Let’s see—the kind of features that would make Maddicks go mad, hm? I’ll have to black out this part first.”
“You are truly diabolical.”
“Khahaha.”
The old Duke and Morris were instantly absorbed into the world of blueprints.
Thanks to that, Khalid was at last able to quietly sink into reflection.
He recalled a note he had carried deep inside for some time now.
‘That phrase I copied from the cave where I was imprisoned…’
It was a message written inside the shackles that had bound him.
Nagre me loph.
‘But that wasn’t right.’
“Ancient script has many ways to arrange characters.”
Rubian had told him as much.
So, perhaps it wasn’t meant to be read as in an ordinary book…
‘If it’s meant to be read in reverse.’
Pro me legna.
He rolled the words silently in his mind.
Before leaving the capital, he carried those words with him to secretly seek out Yuliophe Molton, without Rubian knowing.
“Hmm? You’re curious about this phrase?”
The professor, looking haggard, seemed delighted that so many students were suddenly interested in the ancient tongue.
“Yes, well.”
“Oh, this isn’t a particularly difficult phrase.”
Khalid licked his lips, nervous.
“These letters were used most frequently in the ancient royal palace.”
“…The royal palace?”
“Pro me legna.”
Yuliophe smiled gently and added,
“It means, For my king.”