WeTried Translations

Translator/Editor: Hydrogen B

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Chapter 65: 11. St. Yansk University and the Chamber of Secrets (8)

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“Ivan. A royal guard dozing on his feet. What a fine world this has become.”

“Gasp...!”

Ivan jerked his head up at the low voice ringing beside his ear.

His blurred vision slowly cleared. It was a bright afternoon, inside a familiar barracks.

He swiftly scanned the room, as any trained operative should after being dropped somewhere unfamiliar.

First, assess the terrain.

“What...?”

The moment Ivan took in the barracks, he stared blankly and muttered in disbelief.

A roaring bear crest hung from a red banner.

A spacious barracks, a massive wooden table with tactical maps spread across it.

An office desk, and the enormous silhouette seated behind it.

Broad shoulders, thick forearms, and two vivid blue eyes shining brightly.

“Ah...”

“Ivan? Are you hurt?”

“Ah...”

The man set down his rattling cutlery and slowly rose.

His huge shadow stretched across the barracks, blocking the light. Ivan's legs gave out, and he dropped to one knee, lowering his head.

“I greet... my lord.”

“...Yes, you have greeted me. What are you doing?”

“I...”

Ivan looked up with confused eyes.

A warm, worried gaze met his. A huge hand patted his shoulder, then withdrew.

The man called the Great One, the Thunder Emperor, the Bear of Krasilov, the Conqueror, the Great King, by enemies and allies alike, under countless names.

He was looking down at Ivan now.

With the same gaze he had worn back then, and the same face.

This was a dream.

Ivan quickly got hold of himself.

If this was a dream of those days, he couldn't make a mistake. The moment the dream and his memories diverged, he might wake up.

Think. This must have been a memory from his past, one that had left a deep impression on him.

He couldn't wake up yet. Not yet.

Then Ivan noticed the tableware on the desk.

Ah. It was that time.

Not long after he had begun serving as the Great King's royal guard. He remembered. That day, he had seen a king's dinner for the first time.

The question he had asked then was...

“I thought Your Majesty would eat a better meal.”

“Hmm? Hahaha! This, you mean? Is it that terrible?”

“Isn't this the sort of meal conscripts eat?”

“It is.”

The Great King smirked and crushed a potato with his fork. He spread it over a dry biscuit, soaked it in water, chewed for a while, then spoke.

“This is my hypocrisy.”

“Hypocrisy... Your Majesty?”

“If the people heard that I ate this sort of thing, they would gladly praise me. Oh, what a frugal king! Hah. Wrong.”

The Great King took a long drink of water and set down his cup.

“Do you know how much it costs for the nobles and royals of this nation, those lofty people, to eat fine food and take fine shits? There was a time when the food ten nobles stuffed into their mouths cost about as much as feeding an entire division of soldiers.”

“...”

“If those bastards ate less, how much higher would the soldiers' survival rate be? We could give them sturdier armor and at least one more handful of ammunition. Now, Ivan. Do you know what must be done to tell those noble bastards to eat less?”

The Great King shrugged and tapped his empty bowl.

“I eat less first. If some bold fool has the nerve to eat something finer than this country's king, well. I can personally recognize that audacity and send them to the vanguard. So? What do you think of my hypocrisy?”

“I do not understand why that would be hypocrisy...”

“Because I don't want to eat this crap either.”

The Great King burst into laughter and patted Ivan's shoulder.

“Is that not hypocrisy? I am not doing this because I truly wish to. I am putting on a performance just to save a little money and keep those creatures called nobles in line. How could that not be hypocrisy? Hmm? Now, Ivan, I will show you the terrifying greed that only a king can display.”

The Great King grinned playfully, strode to the table, and opened a drawer beneath it.

Inside lay a bunch of half-dried grapes, a chunk of smoked ham with solidified grease, and a bottle of milk.

“Isn't it truly frightening? This is the horrific result of a king's greed and extravagance.”

“Um...”

“What? Do you dare disagree with me? I force dry food on the nobles in the name of saving money, then feast on such lavish fare behind their backs!”

“I... see.”

“Hoho, I suppose you are too young to understand. Do you know how much administrative effort it takes for milk to reach this front without spoiling? Ah, right. How old did you say you were?”

“Eighteen, Your Majesty.”

The Great King frowned as he looked Ivan over, from his shoulders to his forearms.

“And yet you are so scrawny for a man.”

Ivan was a reasonable person, so he did not complain to the king. Still, he was taller and more solidly built than the average person in this uncivilized premodern world.

The man before him was simply too enormous.

The king laughed heartily and beckoned.

“Come and eat.”

“...Pardon?”

“I said come and eat. I must add another line to my hypocrisy. How can I maintain my dignity if the military officer assigned to protect me is this frail? Eat and grow bigger, little Ivan.”

The Great King smiled with satisfaction and pushed the dishes toward him.

Ivan was a patient man, but he could not resist fatty meat and fresh milk for long.

Even when he had been raised as the son of a tenant farmer, milk had been a luxury he could not dare bring to his lips.

There was no way to keep it fresh, and it spoiled in an instant. Any milk left after the tribute was paid had to be made into cheese or butter. Even preserving food was difficult in this uncivilized world.

When he came to his senses, Ivan had already wolfed down every last piece of ham and drained the milk.

The Great King watched the sight in silence for a long time, then sighed.

“My sins run deep indeed.”

“Pardon? Ah, forgive me, Your Majesty.”

“Enough. Forgive you for what? What is there for you to apologize for when I say my sins run deep?”

The Great King cleared away the empty dishes himself as he spoke.

“A world where a boy your age loses his mind over a single cheap piece of meat... is not right. Even when I ascended the throne, this country was not like this. One day every week, the smell of bread and roasting meat would fill every street in Pritchenkaya.”

At last, the Great King shook his head.

“I do not know why I am saying such things to a child less than half my age. Enough. Do not dwell on it. Ivan, from today on, you will keep me company during meals.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“At least I can fill one child's stomach. Such is the lofty authority of this king. There is no harm in adding one more pitiful subject who falls for my hypocrisy.”

The Great King smirked and waved him away.

Ivan bowed deeply, slowly backed away, and left the barracks.

It had been sixteen years since he had been thrown into this world, and he was in his sixth year of military service.

Outside the barracks, soldiers trudged through the camp with hopeless, defeated expressions.

Krasilov was falling.

No, humanity was heading for ruin.

The Hero would not appear for another two years.

So Ivan sometimes thought about it.

If the Hero had found them just a little sooner, the Great King might have survived.

He might have lived to smile as he watched smoke rise once more from the ovens roasting meat in Pritchenkaya.

If that had happened, perhaps Ivan could have liked this world a little more.

Everything he had admired, respected, or looked up to, had been extinguished during eighteen years of war.

He wanted kimchi stew.

“Is this all?”

Ivan stood in the middle of the military camp and looked up at the sky.

“If you mean to show me regrets or lingering attachments, this isn't enough. Is this all?”

He had long passed the age when dreams like this could lead him astray. Ivan looked up at the sky and thought.

He did not know why an ancient ruin powerful enough to erase the dwarves' excavation relic in a single blow was trying to toy with him through such a mere illusion.

Still, if it believed this level of temptation could make him yield, it was being far too stupid.

Ivan reached into his clothes. The essential weapons he always carried filled his hands.

Thought immediately became action. He drew a dagger, drove it into his forearm, and poured a healing potion over the wound. It hissed against the cut with a stab of pain.

-Crack!!

The dream shattered.

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Ivan took one step forward as his senses returned.

The last thing he had seen was himself leaping through the rippling mana beyond a cliff's edge.

He believed he had finally reached the ancient ruin.

“This is...”

His blurred vision rapidly sharpened, and the senses that had vanished returned to his body one by one.

Ivan rolled his shoulders and looked around. A spotless corridor, huge stone pillars, marble reliefs, an immense ceiling...

It was a massive hall lined with incomprehensible statues.

“A temple...?”

Ivan carefully rose and walked forward. He could hear the wind blowing from far away, along with a faint breath much closer by.

As he approached the sound, he found Elphihara lying neatly on the floor with her eyes closed.

“Wake up.”

Ivan lightly slapped Elphihara's cheek. With a sharp smack, she sprang upright.

“Mmph?!! W-what are you doing all of a sudden...!”

“Shh.”

They did not know what might be here. Quiet first.

Elphihara shut her mouth at Ivan's gesture and looked around, then suddenly grumbled.

“Tch... that was such an amazing dream...”

“I bet it was.”

“Humans, honestly. Stupid and dull, and rude on top of it. Where did you learn such terrible manners, waking someone up like that when they're sleeping...?”

“Are you not fully awake yet?”

Ivan raised a hand as he looked at the grumbling Elphihara. If she was still caught in the dream, he was willing to wake her up again.

Elphihara flinched, covered her cheek, and shook her head.

“We should start interpreting the ancient language.”

“Where?”

“Everywhere here.”

Ivan nodded toward the reliefs covering the ceiling and stone pillars.

Elphihara blankly raised her head, then slowly opened her mouth and laughed hollowly.

“All of this...?”

“Isn't that why we came?”

“I'm more the thinking type, so I'm a little weak when it comes to labor.”

“You can read it, right?”

“What do you take me for...! Of course I can. Let me see. Hmm... mmm... huh?”

Elphihara immediately approached a nearby stone pillar, frowned at it for a while, then spoke.

“You said this was a relic from fifteen hundred years ago?”

“I did.”

“If this is what we are interpreting, I think you should have brought a priest rather than a mage.”

Elphihara stepped back with a flustered expression.

“A priest?”

“Yes, this is Ancient Dellen... you know, the language used in scripture. It is an old language, but priests learn it in their basic courses.”

“You cannot do it?”

“How could I not? Of course I can read it. What do you really take me for? You are only human.”

“...”

Elphihara examined the reliefs, her ears twitching.

“This is... a victory monument?”

“A victory monument.”

“Yes, it is filled with praise for the God of Light. A victory monument... What on earth did they fight that they had to build such an incredible ruin to commemorate it...?”

“Hmm.”

Was there perhaps some academy “common sense” about an ancient-era ruin where an ancient demon had been sealed away?

He hoped not.

Ivan checked his weapons and clicked his tongue.

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Footnotes:

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