Risou no Himo Seikatsu - Volume 15 - Chapter 1.3

The giant’s features were so handsome that Zenjirou could easily see where the representative’s thought of beautification had come from. A human-sized version would have drawn gazes from men and women alike—Zenjirou was sure of it. The giant’s face was not his only impressive feature; the muscle tone visible on his body made him look more like a god from some pantheon than a mere giant.

What Zenjirou was more curious about, however, was the ornamentation on the giant’s clothing. Perhaps he had been of a particularly high rank. Shining metal rested around the figure’s waist, wrists, and neck. It was likely gold. There was no issue with that, but the sheer amount of it boggled his mind. Manufacturing such things was possible, though the jewels set within the metal were another matter. Even on a giant, the gems looked large. One could upend every treasury in Capua and never find a gem of such size.

The clothes were odd too. How were they made? Cotton, linen, and silk could all be gathered from nature and woven, but doing so with the natural sources Zenjirou knew of would require an absurd amount of work. Given that giants were ten times the size of humans, this meant thread from cotton or silkworms would only be a tenth of its relative thickness. Even if it were possible, it would take entire fields of cotton to create a single set of giant’s clothing.

The leather for the belts and shoes was much less of a concern in a world where huge drakes existed. All of this quickly blended with the knowledge that the world they lived in was a different world than his own.

“Rather than the Jötunn being giants, is it possible humans are dwarves?” he muttered to himself.

Yngvi’s sharp ears picked up the question. “What do you mean?”

“Um...”

Realizing that he might be hesitating to speak his mind in the current situation, the representative’s lips curled upward slightly as he bid Zenjirou to continue. “I would like to know as well. Continue, Zenjirou.”

“Well, I was just thinking that the Jötunn might not be giants. They live in another world, right? So perhaps everything in that world is larger, in which case they wouldn’t be considered ‘giant’ from their perspective. If anything, humans who moved there would be considered dwarves.”

He explained his thoughts about the clothing and gems. Food would have been the same. If grains were the same size as those in this world, creating bread large enough to satisfy them would have taken absurd amounts. Considering that the people of that world had managed to prosper enough to create a society with refined clothing, it made a lot more sense that everything was on the same scale. In other words, in a world composed of giants, the giants wouldn’t be “giant”—rather, the humans would be dwarves.

Both of his companions seemed extremely interested in this chain of logic.

“I see. I should have known you’d come up with something like that,” Yngvi remarked.

“That is an intriguing suggestion. I disagree with some points, but it’s logical. Very interesting. I would like to investigate it properly at some point.”

Somewhat surprisingly, it was the representative who was most interested. He leaned in closer, his huge muscles seeming to be carved from stone. Part of what he said bothered Zenjirou, though.

“You disagree, but it still seems logical? What do you mean?”

The other man answered, “Our teachings say that their culture was founded on a strong base of magic. One of their spells allowed them to combine several natural stones into one, so creating multiple gems for jewelry like this would be fairly feasible.”

“Ah, I see. Magic.” Zenjirou felt his face heat in embarrassment. He had been so certain and yet completely forgotten the prerequisite of magic, so his shame was hardly a surprise. “Then all of that was pointless. Please forget about it.”

“Not so fast. I said that it was logical despite my objections. I have only just noticed it myself, but those gems are an oddity. Even if the Jötunn had the magic to take scraps and create larger ones, there are too many for it to make sense.”

He had not just inherited the one image. There were shorter giants, but even they had at least one gem-studded accessory. Of course, those were smaller stones, and the clothing was of an inferior make as well.

“Maybe the ore veins in that world are just that much richer than ours?” Zenjirou suggested.

Representative Rök immediately rejected the idea. “Then the gems would not be seen as valuable. They were considered valuable to the Jötunn in the same way gems are to the people of this world. Although the giants were several times larger than us, the gems of their world were still relatively rare compared to ours. Hence me seeing the logic in your suggestion.”

If the environment in the two worlds was the same, the relative rarity of the gems would increase according to their size. If conditions were different and more gems were available, they would likely be considered less valuable.

With neither of those being the case and precious stones being approximately as valuable in Utgarða, the representative could see the credibility of Zenjirou’s theory that the “giants” were simply the “humans” of that world.

“Of course, part of that is probably wishful thinking,” the representative said with a rueful smile.

“Wishful thinking?”

“Indeed. Our goal behind establishing a route to Utgarða is the importation of magicite.”

“Magicite?” Zenjirou parroted, the word unfamiliar to him.

“Yes, magicite. You could call it the cornerstone of Utgard. After all, the only things that can bring the full effect of magic writing out are magicite and pure mana.”

Both Zenjirou and Yngvi leaned forward at that. “Are we really permitted to hear that?” Zenjirou asked.

Their surprise was understandable, as the representative had just revealed information about magic writing that neither of them—even the nominal ally in Yngvi’s case—had known. Although Zenjirou was extremely interested, not confirming that the topic was safe ahead of time would leave him too concerned to truly listen.

Representative Rök offered another shrug before answering. “It is not something that should be spread around. Therefore, I ask that you keep it as private as possible. To be specific, only speak of it to those of higher standing in your countries.”

The two visitors exchanged glances. Zenjirou was prince consort of Capua, and Yngvi was the crown prince of Uppasala. In other words, there was only one person in each of their countries who was ranked higher. In Zenjirou’s case, that was his wife Aura. In Yngvi’s, it was his father, Gustav. Restricting the information to them would definitely make it top secret. And yet, trusting that to a verbal promise seemed rather laissez-faire. It showed how relatively important the promise would be.

“Very well,” Zenjirou answered eventually.

“I shall do so,” Yngvi agreed.

Now that he had their agreement, the representative gave a shallow nod before dispassionately revealing one of his state secrets.

“If all you want from the magic writing is the translation, you don’t need much. However, manifesting further effects requires very specific materials. Magicite is perfect for it. There was once a huge deposit under the ice fields here, but we are starting to see its end. Magic writing is the foundation of Utgard, so a steady supply is the most important thing for us.”

Representative Rök’s words were franker than Zenjirou would have expected of him, with the weight of a country on his back. He had to know what was going on. If this magicite was truly the foundation of the state, why was he revealing that weakness to royalty from other nations?

Zenjirou leaned forward, questioning the representative to try and get a clearer picture. “And that is why you wish to open trade with this other world? Is there no option to search further within this world?”

“We are doing so at the same time, of course. I intend to talk with Yngvi about exactly that later.”

The young prince smiled widely at the conversation turning to him. “So our lands have a deposit of this magicite?” he asked.

“There is a possibility. Frankly, merely searching around will likely be a wasted effort. If the chance exists, though, we wish to investigate in all of the other northernmost states.”

“And outside of those five? The Northern Continent is a big place.”

Yngvi’s question prompted a flattening of the representative’s face as he shook his head. “Any other countries will be difficult. All probable locations have been designated holy ground by the church.”

There was a long pause.

“I see.” Yngvi fell into thought for a while before his lips lifted into a crescent.

“Then what about the Southern Continent?” Zenjirou suggested while mentally noting the prince’s smile as something to report. “Honestly, that seems far easier than trying to get assistance from another world entirely.” Capua was a big country in terms of national power, of course, but it was also a large country, physically. Although they had no real gold mines, they had a fair amount in the way of underground resources like iron and silver, so Zenjirou was rather optimistic they might have some of this magicite. His hopes were immediately dashed, though.

“No. There is none on Randlion—the Southern Continent, that is.”

“Why is that?” Zenjirou asked, taken aback at the absolute surety in the other man’s voice. Unfortunately, no answer was forthcoming.

“If you do not know, I cannot tell you. I cannot tell you why that must remain secret either. Ask nothing else about this. If you must know, find out for yourself. I will not stop that.”

“Very well.” The response made Zenjirou even more curious, but he could tell that any questioning about it would be pointless here.

“Either way, Utgarða is our main chance. What do you say, Zenjirou? Will the Kingdom of Capua—no, the Capuan royal family—be willing to assist us?”

His self-correction was apt. The city-state didn’t want something from the country itself. The only entity that possessed the means to travel to other worlds was the royal family. Although the distinction between monarch, country, and royal family had been much more ambiguous in the past, they were not one and the same.

“I cannot give you an answer from what I have heard so far. I understand what you are asking for, but the information is too vague. What time frame would this span? What payment can we expect or would you offer? I would hear all of that first.”

Representative Rök’s eyes narrowed as Zenjirou moved to begin proper negotiations.

“I cannot give an exact time frame. However, it is not something that cannot wait a century or three. Success in our negotiations with Yngvi would lengthen that time as well.”

In other words, it depended on the amount of time they had before their magicite was depleted. It certainly made sense that they could not give an exact number. If magicite was truly indispensable to Utgard, then their stores of it were effectively the country’s remaining lifespan. Naturally, they wouldn’t reveal that detail to a foreigner.

Either way, Zenjirou could not conceal his relief at the deadline being on the order of centuries. If it had been decades, he would have had to refuse.

There were two spells that Zenjirou knew of within space-time magic that concerned other worlds. The first one was summoning. Naturally, it was one that Aura knew, as it had been used to summon him to this world. The other was the transfer. It was based on the summoning spell and, as the name implied, sent the target to another world. Zenjirou had temporarily returned to Japan after his first summoning, and it had been a revised version of the latter spell that Aura had used to send him back.

The royal family of Capua currently consisted of Zenjirou, Aura, and two babies, which was most certainly not enough to fulfill the representative’s wishes. However, over the course of centuries, that became much less of a concern. Generation after generation, they would have more and more people capable of casting space-time magic, and they could research relevant magic as they went.

With that in mind, Zenjirou questioned him further. “Pardon me, but if travel there becomes possible, will you be able to purchase the magicite? Or would the Jötunn be generous enough to just give it away?”

Strictly speaking, this had nothing to do with Zenjirou or the royal family, but he still wanted to know the answer. If the royal family made contact between the two worlds possible and then Utgard’s envoy was soundly rebuffed, it wasn’t something they would prefer to be involved in. More pragmatically, it would influence the payment.

The representative seemed perfectly happy with the line of questioning, and his tone didn’t change as he answered. “I have no absolute guarantee, but I do not believe it would be an issue. According to our history, they wanted our skills in magic writing. We have been developing those skills over the years and haven’t stopped. I believe we will be able to use them for bargaining.”

Both Yngvi and Zenjirou were startled by that.

“Pardon, but they wanted your skill with magic writing? So it wasn’t humans getting close to the Jötunn, but the Jötunn needing humans?” Zenjirou asked.

Yngvi picked up the thread. “You’ll be using your skills in magic writing as bargaining material? I heard that the Jötunn were a highly advanced civilization, magically speaking. You said as much as well. Despite that, those skills are still valuable to them?”

Representative Rök replied calmly, “I will answer Zenjirou’s question first. You are right. The relationship between humans and the Jötunn was not human-prompted. The Jötunn put it forward. To speak plainly, the humans were under their dominion. If I were to go further, we were more like livestock with a particularly useful skill.”

There was a fair amount of self-deprecation in his words, but there was no hint of anger or hatred towards the Jötunn.

“Livestock...under their dominion...”

Zenjirou rolled the phrases around in his mouth while the representative explained.

“Of course, I say livestock, but we were not used for meat like pigs, or for wool and milk like goats. Instead, they wanted us to carve magic writing for them.”

His dark gray eyes shifted from Zenjirou to Yngvi at that point.

“The rest of this will answer your question, Yngvi. The Jötunn were indeed extremely advanced magically. They were on the same level as the ancient dragons the church reveres so much. Our skill in magic writing is something they taught us, and is a drop in the ocean compared to their mastery.”

For once, Yngvi was struck completely dumb. There was still a gleam in his blue eyes, though as he waited for the representative to continue.

“However, there are differences between knowing how to use magic writing and actually doing so. The writing must be carved precisely in order to use its effects. Another is that the writing’s size has no influence on its efficacy.”

“Ah, so that’s it,” Yngvi said.

“Oh, that’s why they need humans,” Zenjirou added, coming to the realization a beat later. “If the effect will take place regardless of the writing’s size, so long as it is carved correctly, the humans would be far more suited to the skill than the Jötunn.”

“Exactly,” the representative said with satisfaction.

If humans and Jötunn were as dexterous as each other relative to their size, then when it came to writing smaller text, the Jötunn would never be able to match the humans. Engraving a Jötunn-sized ring with magic writing would—for a Jötunn—be an exceptionally delicate task, beyond most of their kind. It would be the domain of the best craftsmen they had, at the end of years of training. For a human, though, apart from the clumsiest, anyone would be able to do it with some simple training.

“If our histories are correct, there were many who remained in Utgarða. If those lines live on, they would be our trading rivals. However, I would rate our prospects against them as good.”

“Would you tell me the reason for that?” Zenjirou asked.

“It’s simple,” the other man said dispassionately. “While we were under their rule, we constantly engraved magic writing for them. It would be natural to assume the humans who remained are still in that position. Meanwhile, we have improved our abilities for our own sake.”

There was a firm pride and confidence on his face. They had engraved things for themselves, which inevitably meant they had practice in working on items on their own scale. Using those techniques on Jötunn-scale items would allow them to fit far more into the same space.

“I see,” Zenjirou responded eventually. “Utgard has a surfeit of skilled craftsmen.”

The windows of the temple passed through his mind. Although the people of Złota Wolność used glass in their windows, it was warped and murky from a modern perspective. Creating panes of glass and engraving words in tiny text were not one and the same, but both required skill and patience.

“Indeed. We won’t be inferior in skill or number,” said Rök.

There was obvious pride that made up part of that answer, and yet there was definite objectivity in it as well. There was a real possibility that the humans who had remained had also polished their skills beyond those who had traveled to Utgard. The Jötunn might very well see the examples and refuse to trade for something of equal quality. More harshly, it was also possible that the Jötunn had continued to develop their powers and magic writing itself was a thing of the past. Either way, it would be dangerous to stake everything on it.

“Would you tell us of their traditions? There could be things that the Jötunn are likely to want that exist in Capua but not here. I believe there is scope for an agreement there.”

The representative looked shocked by the suggestion. “Are you sure? If our history is correct, they are very advanced and effectively a massive nation-state. You could even consider them divinities beyond this realm.”

Zenjirou’s implication that Capua would trade with Utgarða on Utgard’s behalf was a tacit promise to not directly trade with the former. The reason for the man’s shock was that Utgard wanted the Capuan royal family to establish a route to Utgarða. In other words, when the two related nations were in a position to trade, Capua would be as well. Being in that position but purposefully using Utgard as a go-between for things Utgarða wanted was clearly wasteful. You could even consider it against their better interests.

Of course, despite his relatively low level of statecraft, Zenjirou knew that. Yet he immediately agreed even so. “Of course. However advanced they are—or rather, the more advanced they are—the more risks there are in us directly entering into a relationship with a nation we know nothing about.”

“Hm?” Representative Rök cocked his head at that. There was a logic to it, but it was almost cowardly. Be it domestic or international, all politics carried risks. Zenjirou’s comment meant avoiding both the risk and the reward. Of course, that wasn’t his true goal.

“Therefore, I would suggest that my country’s trade with Utgarða be carried out via Utgard. In return, Utgard would interact with the countries in this world through us.”

“Brother?” the prince prompted him, narrowing his eyes and speaking in a low voice.

Although he had somewhat expected the response, it felt heavier than Zenjirou had expected, so he continued with a slightly hurried voice. “Of course, I wouldn’t ask that you completely drop all trade and agreements you already have. I mean for us to be your go-between to other, new countries.”

This was something that could quite easily see the representative flying out of his seat in a rage. It was quite a rude suggestion. It meant constraining their diplomatic policies to what was convenient for Capua. It also cut off the majority of their options for international diplomacy.

“Hm, what for?” Rök’s reaction, however, was another slight incline of his head, with no real sign of displeasure.

With that in mind, Zenjirou couldn’t help but feel accomplished at what had taken all of his courage mustered into a single suggestion. The reaction had strongly supported his assumptions.

At present, Utgard had almost no diplomatic ties with other countries. Even within the region, it had been over a hundred years since someone had been summoned from Uppasala. The other three of the five countries were likely in similar positions, and other nations might not even be sure of Utgard’s existence. That meant restrictions on negotiations with other countries would merely be maintaining the status quo.

That was why Zenjirou thought his suggestion would be realistic, despite such a thing normally being rude at best, and excessive interference at worst by the standards of another nation.

“Having a link to you is to our benefit. I imagine you are aware, but your kingdom is distinct from not only us on the Southern Continent, but the other nations of the north. Having exclusive leadership over a connection with such a different country will, of course, be hugely beneficial to us.”

The representative nodded in understanding at the plain and materialistic reasons Zenjirou gave, but continued his questioning. “I don’t dispute the benefit to the royal family. However, if your aim is magic writing, I will tell you that it will not be done before we proceed. Negotiating with an individual would be possible, but we cannot do so with a country.”

His words were a roundabout way of saying that they would not be exporting magic writing. There was no contradiction to anything he had said earlier in that. The whole reason Utgard was trying to gain passage to Utgarða was that their reserves of magicite to engrave seemed to be reaching their end. Paying with the very thing they were running out of wouldn’t be an option, and Zenjirou had expected as much.

“That is fine, though if it is possible, I would like you to consider magic writing without magicite as its base.”

Even the complete translation ability that the writing itself possessed would be valuable, regardless of the special abilities it might be missing. While verbal conversation was possible thanks to the soul of language, there were multiple languages even on the Southern Continent, so a script that anyone could read would be well worth it.

Rök considered it for a few moments but eventually shook his head. “No. There are no exceptions.”

That meant there was either some shortage of the materials for the translation ability itself or that they were concerned about the techniques spreading. Whatever the case, it was a complete refusal, so Zenjirou didn’t push his luck any further.

“Understood. But the other points are acceptable?” Zenjirou asked, keeping his tone as light as possible.

Representative Rök nodded slightly while pushing for confirmation. “They are. Can I take it that you are accepting our request?”

“You can. However, we have a limited number of people capable of casting the spells, so I have no idea how to establish a travel route. You mentioned earlier that the deadline for your request would potentially be several centuries or even longer away. Are you willing to accept that?”

Zenjirou was just about capable of three spells: drawing something nearby, creating a barrier, and teleportation. Aura was a much better mage, but she was not a researcher.

There were materials that had been left behind by the previous king, Carlos, and other members of the family, so research on trade routes was possible but unlikely to begin until the next generation when there were more people capable of casting the spells.

All Zenjirou could personally do was digitize the writings left behind on the various pieces of parchment and strips of wood. He was much busier than when he and Aura had first gotten married, but he was still the one with far more free time.

I’ll take the lead and gather the information, then get Aura to look over it and let me know what she thinks. It’d be great to get some insight from Espiridion, but that’ll be up to her to decide.

While Zenjirou was considering all of that, Representative Rök had kept his silence, but eventually nodded firmly. “Fine. I understand it will take time. However, I would rather avoid your family making a show of the attempt to maintain the contract. Once we have agreed on the details, I want to seal the contract officially with magic. Agreed?”

“Seal it with magic? Can magic writing do such a thing?” Zenjirou asked, his surprise clear.

“It is not impossible, but that isn’t what I mean. To make things certain, we will use a contract magic tool.”

Zenjirou wasn’t foolish enough to miss the implication there. “An inheritance from the White Empire.”

“Exactly.”

Although Representative Rök spoke placidly, Zenjirou couldn’t contain his shock, partially at the White Empire’s existence, and partially at the idea that they would go out of their way to use it.

He realized that he had misjudged things. They had gone out of their way to invite him here, so he had known their desire to contact Utgarða was no mere whim or vagary. However, the representative had said that it could theoretically wait “two or three centuries.” Because of that, he’d taken it as a casual agreement, to put it plainly. But with them now going out of their way to use one of the relics of the White Empire, it most definitely was no such thing.

Still, the decision did not affect the terms themselves.

“Understood. However, I do not have the authority to agree to that on my own. I suggest we negotiate in writing as per usual until the particulars are settled and form the contract once we have both reached an agreement.”

“Very well.”

Yngvi was silent, watching the exchange with the gleam of ambition flaring in his eyes. It was still only a verbal agreement, but a contract between Capua and Utgard was a matter of great historical—and political—significance.