Chapter 489
“Roel, you said you lived in the Great Desert when you were little, right? Tell me about what you saw back then. I’ve never seen a desert myself.”
Bibi rolled over on the grass and rested her head on Roel’s knee.
Roel, who had been reading a book, paused for a moment, then gently brushed a leaf off Bibi’s cheek. He returned his gaze to the pages and murmured softly, “Golden sands. And the desert flood my father once thought of when he remembered my mother.”
“What’s that?” Bibi asked, curious, but Roel didn’t answer. Still, she seemed used to his silence, stretching her hand toward the sky as if trying to catch a cloud.
Philia and Vivianna watched the scene with fond smiles. Two girls of similar age, so different in personality, yet somehow they got along better than expected.
“My child is bothering Roel, I’m sorry,” Vivianna said apologetically.
“No, it seems Roel really likes Bibi. I was worried he might be rude to her, but that was just my imagination. Bibi has such a lovely personality.”
“By the way, shall we go to the tailor’s this afternoon? You mentioned you didn’t have a suitable dress for Prince Jin’s coming-of-age ceremony.”
“Yes, since you have work tomorrow, today would be best. Are you still going to the same place as before?”
“Oh no, it’s been a while since I changed. Time flies, you know.”
Philia smiled faintly, reflecting on the ten years that had passed.
Just then, Roel, who had been reading, suddenly looked toward the mansion’s entrance as if sensing something. Bibi, still resting on his knee, did the same.
“What is it?” Bibi asked, standing up, puzzled. There was nothing there.
But then, rounding the corner came a brown horse, bearing the Ministry of Magic’s banner. The rider trotted up to the fence, pulled the horse close, and shouted loudly.
“Hiiing!”
“Lady Philia! Lady Philia! The Ministry of Magic has come! Lord Romandro has passed away suddenly! You must receive this news personally!”
Philia and Vivianna exchanged stunned glances. Usually, such messages would be delivered through Vivianna, Romandro’s wife. Philia hurriedly set down her teacup and took the note.
“Well then.”
Something urgent had happened at the Ministry. The rider hadn’t even dismounted before turning back—this meant the matter was serious.
Vivianna approached Philia with concern, and together they read the note.
“Oh my!”
Vivianna was the first to exclaim, covering her mouth in shock. Ian Hielo was alive and currently returning to the capital with Beric! She embraced Philia, offering congratulations.
“Madam!”
“…”
“By the gods, Nersarn, come out here! It’s good news! Roel, your older brother has returned alive. Ian Hielo, the Minister of Magic! Nersarn!”
Wow, the legendary Ian Hielo? Bibi gave a thumbs-up, while Roel quietly closed his book without much reaction.
As Vivianna ran inside to call Nersarn, Philia steadied herself against the fence, swaying.
“Madam! Are you alright?”
“Bibi, I… I’m sorry, but could you get me some water…?”
“Just a moment! Mom! Mooooom!”
Philia exhaled heavily, clutching her chest. The shock was overwhelming, the world seeming to tilt beneath her feet. Unable to stand, she sank down, clasping her hands tightly.
“Thank you. Thank you.”
Thank you for not taking my son’s life. Thank you for returning the meaning to my existence that had vanished in an instant. Living through the death of a child was unbearable. No matter what path Ian chooses from now on, it’s enough for me to simply watch his back, to trust and rely on him, and to know we live together.
“Mother.”
Roel knelt and placed his small hand on hers. Philia looked up, tears streaming down her jawline. The child gazed at her quietly and whispered,
“Words of thanks are enough.”
“…Roel?”
“God’s will moves far beyond human understanding. If we pray overwhelmed by emotion, sometimes it only complicates things.”
Philia sniffled, looking at him for a clearer explanation, but Roel only wiped away her tears.
She slowly pulled him into an embrace, and he yielded willingly. She buried her face in his shoulder, murmuring,
“I’m so glad we came to the capital. If you’d heard this news back in Hielo, the two weeks waiting to return must have felt endless.”
“Yes. Stay in the capital. If you leave, it will be hard to see your brother.”
“Roel, what else did you see?”
“…”
Philia gripped his shoulder, pleading, but he remained silent.
Yet his gaze slipped sideways. Normally, he wouldn’t say much, but with his mother’s tears before him, silence was difficult.
“Beric is truly strange.”
“Hm?”
“Well, whatever happens, he’ll do well. We just have to wait without worry, Mother.”
Roel muttered as if embarrassed, and Philia didn’t press further, smiling brightly.
Yes. She had told herself Ian would return, and Beric was by his side—what was there to worry about? Tears still traced her eyes, but she laughed louder, unbothered.
Meanwhile.
Ian watched Beric sing loudly, drunk and boisterous, with a mix of disbelief and amusement. Beric gripped a half-bent hammer, one foot resting on a wooden crate. Had he forgotten that same hammer had just hit his own head?
Around Beric, the Pym clan and the Dera tribe gathered, clapping and cheering.
“The greatest warrior approaches! Clear the way! If you don’t, I’ll beat your backside to flames! Uzzazzazza!”
“Uzzazzazza!”
“Ha! You may look rough, but you sure can sing! Hey, what was your name again?”
“Shut up! Who talks during a song?”
“Beric, Beric. That’s why the world’s fair—ugly face, but killer singing skills!”
“Ahahaha! Another drink?”
“Yeah! Pour it! I don’t drink by the glass!”
“Ohhh, now that’s a man who knows how to drink.”
That’s the problem.
The Dera tribe’s tunnels ran deep underground, with so many furnaces blazing that one could say each person owned five. Beric, who had been complaining about the heat since entering, was now thoroughly drunk on the cool drink handed to him.
Pym glanced at Beric as Ian carefully wrapped bandages around his hand.
“Still impressive he hasn’t passed out. Our liquor is pretty strong.”
“Beric’s a heavy drinker.”
“Besides being ugly and grumpy, he’s not so bad.”
Quite interesting. Beric had nearly been kicked out for singing a single verse at Philia’s wedding. Yet here, the Dera tribe cheered his voice as if it were a delight.
Had they only ever heard the dryad’s screams and the clang of forging? Or was the Dera tribe’s sense of aesthetics just different? Ian couldn’t say.
But whatever the reason, Beric’s looseness had clearly softened the mood of the meeting. Even Pym, who had been openly hostile, hummed along to the absurd harmony.
As Ian flexed his hand, soaked in herbal salve, more Dera tribe members gathered around.
“You said you’re from the palace? And this one too?”
“That’s right. I’m Ian Hielo, Minister of Magic, and this is Beric of the Palace Guard.”
Ian noticed that the Dera tribe members playing with Beric were mostly young. Those sitting calmly near Ian, including Pym, wrinkled their noses slightly.
“So, how does it feel to enter the Dera tribe’s tunnels?”
“Hmm…”
More cave than tunnel, really. The high ceiling stretched over ten meters, with ancient tree roots serving as pillars, breathing life into the space for centuries.
Rusty scrap metal piled up to form walls, but Ian saw little division of space. It was as if everyone had devoted their lives to crafting something, leaving no room for ordinary acts like eating or sleeping.
“Feels like a treasure trove.”
“What? Ahahaha! That’s right! It’s a treasure trove! Filled with shiny things!”
The Dera tribe’s pride was evident in their words. Pleased, they shook their bottles, and somewhere nearby, the clang of hammering rang out.
“Would you like a drink?”
“Kindly decline. Beric’s already drunk.”
Ian felt the stifling heat and tugged lightly at his shirt. Pym nodded in understanding.
“Not exactly the best place for outsiders. Shall we get to the point?”
“Good.”
“Do you really have the dripper?”
The Dera tribe members twitched their noses at Pym’s question. Ian took a sip of cool water handed to him and nodded.
“Yeah. It’s clear. It’s some kind of automatic recording device you made, right? It marks points at regular intervals on its own.”
“Exactly! Then how did it end up in your hands?”
“I got it through Lady Lien. I already explained that to Pim.”
Ian looked at Pim, who added, “I’m a girl born between a dryad and a human.”
“Oh? Ah, I remember now. Was that a few years ago? Twenty years ago?”
“Not quite that long. You mean the child who ran away after cutting off her mother? Yeah, I remember. Hope she’s doing well. Back then, she went by a different name… hmm, Lien. That’s a very good name.”
“Of course, Lady Lien is doing well. She must be ruling over the Merelrof territory.”
“What? No way. Well, I’ll be. Haha! Thanks to her back then, picking fruit was so much easier. When a child was around, the dryads didn’t get aggressive, so we didn’t have to hammer anything.”
“Right, right. That’s probably why we gave her a dripper as a gift when we came down the mountain.”
“Who said we gave her that? We should’ve given her something else!”
The Dera tribe erupted in cheerful commotion, fondly recalling Lady Lien. Ian quietly observed them before gently asking, “Do you need a dripper?”
“Huh? Yeah, well, it’s not the dripper itself, but something we want to make with it.”
Ian’s curiosity piqued, but the Dera tribe dodged the question, clearly not ready to share more.
“It used to be easy. If we failed, we’d just make another dripper and try again, breaking and remaking as needed. But at some point, it became hard to get the materials.”
“Is it because they’re imported from Burgos?”
“Yeah, probably since that country fell into chaos.”
The Dera tribe muttered seriously, resting their chin on their hand.
“There’s only so much you can recycle. We ended up with just one dripper left, but those damn thieves stole it. Damn them.”
“This time, we shouldn’t just sit back. Let’s go find it!”
“No way. If we go down the mountain, we might die.”
“We’re not monsters. So what? If they attack, we’ll fight back!”
The Dera tribe members argued, each voicing their own opinion. There seemed to be some disagreement among them.
As the tension rose, Ian raised his hand slowly, signaling for calm.
“Unfortunately, your last dripper has been destroyed.”
“What?”
“I recognized it because I have the same one. It was completely smashed, tangled up with scrap metal.”
The Dera tribe gasped, their small eyes nearly popping out in shock. Their mouths dropped open, revealing tiny front teeth.
“D-damn those bastards!”
“K-kill them—!”
Just as they were about to grab their hammers in fury, Ian spoke calmly.
“But if you want, I can give you mine. And though I’m not exactly sure what it is, I think I can help with getting the materials, too.”
He casually brought the hammer nearby into his hand.
A weapon powerful enough to knock Beric out cold in just two blows. What if this were mass-produced and supplied to the palace soldiers?
“So, what do you say? Will you take my dripper?”