SALP Chapter 21
As she turned the page, Raphlang's season deepened and white snow fell.
The page displayed a scene from the snow angel competition that Lanthe cherished most. Snow angels built as tall as people, and beside them, rows of small snow angels made with bright, smiling expressions.
The joyful expressions of the people who had set up snow angels modeled after the guardian angels protecting their kingdom at the village entrance resembled Lanthe's neighbors. They resembled Aunt Louise. They resembled Erin, who had once been the village's youngest child.
Lanthe gently stroked the paper with her fingertips, careful not to damage it.
Lovely. So lovely.
A world so missed and so beloved had been alive and breathing long ago, even beyond the Median Sea.
Long ago, there had been a time when they existed, singing and dancing freely in vast and abundant lands.
'What's so good about Raphlang Kingdom being revived? That place has nothing to do with us.'
So this was what a homeland kingdom felt like. That we Raphlishian had a kingdom to call our own.
'If Raphlang still existed now, we'd have more friends and more family, wouldn't we? Then we'd be much, much happier.'
Only now could she understand the meaning of what the village chief's daughter had said.
Like fruits that love the roots of the tree that bore and raised them, even though those roots are buried deep in the earth where eyes cannot directly see them. Only now could she understand what the Raphlish people's affection and longing for the kingdom where their parents were born, lived, and protected had been like.
She too had come to know only after seeing Roas's fall with her own two eyes, after seeing Raphlang Kingdom's history in letters and pictures.
I could feel the same thing as them.
I was Raphlishian too.
'If we'd had our own kingdom, we would have been freer than we are now.'
Lanthe thought about her people. After the kingdom's fall, only a few hundred had survived, holding together even more tightly and protecting each other—she had been one of them. She was them.
The scenery in the book slowly sank into twilight.
Lanthe raised her head to look at the scroll in the corner of the room.
The sunlight that had been pouring in brightly had grown dim. Clouds must be passing by the sun. She hadn't realized how much time had passed.
Nina, who had been rolling around beside her holding a book and chattering, was now deeply absorbed in an animal picture book called Residents of the Oden Forest, lying motionless and entranced.
On the book's last page spread a large landscape painting drawn in three colors—blue ink, red ink, and green ink. It was a bird's-eye view as if looking down on the entire small kingdom.
Here the Angel of Raphlang appeared for the first time.
An angel with large wings, long curly hair, and gentle eyes sat atop the western wall, looking down at the earth. Only the angel was depicted in blue ink. As if wanting to express an existence invisible to human eyes or a symbolic being, only the angel was rendered semi-transparent in blue pointillism against the green landscape.
And on the opposite side of the angel, atop the right wall, sat a dragon with folded wings drawn in contrasting red ink.
'His Majesty Derek will soon obtain Raphlang's Red Dragon.'
The Red Dragon.
'The Red Dragon is the Raphlang King's weapon. It's been speculated to be perhaps a miraculous sword, bow, or powerful siege weapon. But given the current impossibility of crossing the Northern Sea, if it's an object that could have been brought to Penmark lands and discovered, the possibility of it being a large siege weapon is low.'
The weapon Fiarelle had mentioned—it had to be the Red Dragon.
'I suspect it might be a 'bow.' Given that 'the Red Dragon' bears imagery of 'fire' and 'wind,' the weapon's actual form is most likely a special fire arrow.'
If Fiarelle's speculation was correct, that dangerous weapon might already have been brought into Penmark lands somewhere.
The Red Dragon. Suddenly the image of fire arrows pouring down like rain from high walls flashed through Lanthe's mind.
She could see the ominous vision vividly. The baptism of fire arrows with power comparable to a fire-breathing dragon, burning everything alive on the ground. The arrival of a disaster like the day Derek burned Roas...
Lanthe rubbed her arms where goosebumps had risen and shook her head.
No. That's not it. It's a weapon from a kingdom that fell 500 years ago. Even if called a great kingdom that prospered for a thousand years, we can't assume their military power was overwhelming compared to Penmark's kingdoms.
In fact, Raphlang's long survival was likely thanks to being a small kingdom geographically isolated beyond the Mediterranean Sea. Their modest and gentle national character wouldn't have caused internal division, allowing stable governance...
Maybe this 'Red Dragon' thing is just an outdated antique with weak firepower compared to weapons modern Penmarkians possess?
I hope so. I hope when they actually excavate it, it's something like a rusted bow. So they'll realize it was a waste of effort and give up trying to exploit Raphlang's power...
"Whoa, I finished it! The duck family and zebras are so cute. The baby lion is cute too. I wish zebras lived in Hermea!"
At Nina's bright voice, Lanthe relaxed her stiff shoulders and smiled.
"How many times have you read that thin book?"
"Three times!"
"This book has animal pictures too. Want to see?"
Lanthe flipped through pages to show one depicting Raphlish people raising reindeer and goats. Though it was realistic art that might seem plain compared to Residents of the Oden Forest, which anthropomorphized animals to emphasize cuteness, Nina kept squealing with delight.
"Look at these! They're bigger than the reindeer my dad raises! This one's as tall as a man!"
"Hmm. Maybe an artist who really loved reindeer drew only the reindeer extra large?"
"Hehe... But this reindeer is super big and cute..."
Nina pressed her face close to the book, carefully observing the reindeer.
Then she suddenly looked at Lanthe and grinned.
"That's strange?"
"What is?"
"You look a lot like the people here."
She pointed her index finger at a picture of a girl petting a baby reindeer.
"Braiding hair like this and tying a ribbon here—it's exactly the same. Right?"
"Is it?"
It had been a common hairstyle in Roas, so she hadn't thought much of it. But now that she mentioned it, Lanthe didn't think she'd seen anyone wear their hair this way in Penmark.
"Ah, I want to braid mine like this too! It's pretty. How do you do it?"
I really did resemble them too. To people from other kingdoms, I also...
"Alright. Sit here. I'll braid it for you."
Lanthe closed the book and sat up.
She felt the flow of gently changing currents somewhere in her chest. Raphlang, which she had considered a world unrelated to herself, was somehow transforming inside her into 'my homeland.'
"Ow! You're pulling out all my hair!"
"Haha. Hold still. It got all tangled because you were rolling around earlier."
"Kyaaa! Eeeeek!"
"Hold still, you rolling, rolling crow."
Lanthe felt a bittersweet mixture of joy and sorrow, now sharing the longing for their homeland that she alone among her people had failed to grasp before.
Because it was too late. Because it was after losing those with whom she could share the same heart.
She'd mocked them as foolish people. Childishly pointing fingers and teasing them as fools who loved things they'd never seen or known in their lives.
Yet her neighbors had smiled fondly at that version of her—missing their kindness unbearably, Lanthe carefully braided Nina's hair, remembering what they had done for her when she was young.
While the castle's master was away, St. Marca's feast day approached. A feast day commemorating the achievements of Marca, who was called a great wizard in life, this day was a common festival for worshippers serving Penmark's four great gods consisting of the earth goddess, fire god, wind goddess, and water goddess.
It was also the day announcing the beginning of the water season—winter—and the period when Hermea would close its outer gates and settle inside the castle like a beast hibernating.
Lanthe visited Hestan Church again after two days. It had been truly a long time since attending worship. Her heart fluttered watching people recite prayers and sing hymns she knew. She felt a sense of belonging beginning to sprout that she hadn't felt when sitting reluctantly beside Aunt Louise, dozing off.
She finally realized that being able to pray for her wishes where her heart directed was a privilege arising only from tremendous freedom.
And also the fact that she was more comfortable with the handsome priest who stood behind the altar with a cold expression endlessly preaching about proper believer conduct, rather than the Ailea priestess chanting spells over a silver dish of deer blood while prostrated on the floor.
"Welcome, Lady Lanthe!"
"Our church has received a new believer for the first time in 20 years, everyone!"
When worship ended, the congregation held a modest welcome ceremony for her. They'd prepared a necklace woven from flowers after hearing from the priest beforehand, placing it around Lanthe's neck.
She doesn't really have much faith. She just like the church in a way similar to an old nostalgic place.
Feeling shy, Lanthe fiddled with the flower necklace around her neck, biting her lip as an awkward smile threatened to emerge.
Member discussion