Chapter 11: Anuata (2)

The library smelled of dry ink and parchment.

The scent had been faintly noticeable from the main entrance, but stepping inside, I was overwhelmed by its intensity.

As a swordmaster, my senses are far sharper than an ordinary person’s, making me more sensitive to such environmental changes.

Priest Moriah seemed to interpret my reaction as typical of a lowborn. He gave a gentle smile.

Not entirely wrong, I suppose.

This was my first time entering a library in this world.

No matter where I turned or if I closed my eyes, the rich, heavy scent of knowledge filled the air.

It was a smell you couldn’t find in Garam Forest or the slums where the Black Tail Mercenaries lived—a scent imbued with human hands and intellect, naturally compelling reverence.

My nose, accustomed to the stench of river water, damp earth, and rotting corpses from daily monster fights, struggled to adjust to this alien atmosphere.

At this point, I’m starting to wonder if I’m human or beastman.

Relying on my sense of smell to navigate an unfamiliar place?

“Brother, can you read?”

The library, impressive for a city on the empire’s frontier, left me stunned.

As I stood there like a country bumpkin fresh in the city (which, to be fair, I kind of am), Priest Moriah, observing me, asked politely.

Back on Earth, where I lived in a fairly advanced country, such a question might seem rude.

But Moriah wasn’t asking to mock or belittle me.

Here, literacy is genuinely rare.

Since Maximilian’s recommendation letter only granted library access, Moriah likely assumed I was just an errand boy for the branch leader.

“Thank you for your consideration, Priest. Fortunately, I’ve learned to read. I can manage simple titles on my own.”

I answered respectfully.

In the Armenia continent, literacy is a privilege for nobles and wealthy merchant families.

Taverns, inns, and forges use symbols and pictures to advertise, as most citizens can’t read.

For a lowborn mercenary like me, literacy is even rarer.

The Human Empire, despite its advancements, isn’t much different in this regard.

Thus, Moriah’s question wasn’t mockery; his tone was considerate, showing respect for someone from the slums.

What a rare saint.

If Moriah weren’t in priestly robes and lived in the slums, his house would’ve burned down, and he’d have a knife in his back by morning. I’d bet on it.

“Then you won’t need my help.”

A flicker of surprise crossed his face, but it vanished quickly.

Moriah explained that while Maximilian’s letter granted me entry, the restricted archives in a secluded corner were off-limits, accessible only to nobles, high-ranking Elon Sect priests, or those with the Border Count’s permission.

Fair enough. I didn’t expect a mere recommendation letter to grant access to every book.

“Paramir, I understand you’re here with Maximilian’s letter. But this place is full of highborns. Please, mind your words and actions. A slip of the tongue could land you on the gallows.”

“I’ll be careful.”

Moriah patiently outlined a few rules for using the library:

• Don’t make noise with your footsteps.
• Don’t eat food.
• Be cautious with water or liquids to avoid damaging books.
• Bow your head and mind your manners around nobles.

All familiar stuff.

Of course, for an ordinary lowborn without my Earth memories, these might be unknown.

Maybe, as Moriah warned, some lowborn or middle-class person really did end up on the gallows for a slip of the tongue.

No, definitely.

Children’s books were mostly fairy tales, sermons, or tailored to noble tastes, so I skipped them.

I focused on the section with neatly written adult books, though they were harder to navigate.

Anuata. Forest Troll. Monster. Mosul. Garam Forest.

I decided to search with these keywords.

Then, I stumbled upon some intriguing titles:

• The Lustful Dragonian Maid
• Taming an Elf Slave in 100 Days
• The Countess Who Raises the Holy Sword
• Wolf Lord, Don’t Bite Me
• Monster Encyclopedia for Gentlemen

I was speechless.

Before I knew it, I was flipping through books written by some depraved demon.

Nearby, finely dressed gentlemen were engrossed in these “elegant” covers (designed to obscure titles from a distance), lost in the authors’ vivid imaginations.

Well… no need to pick a fight with nobles.

One gentleman, noticing the title I held, gave a subtle smile reserved for kindred spirits.

I confess, I returned the same subtle smile.

Without a word or introduction, we were perfect comrades, brothers-in-arms.

“Young friend, you have excellent taste.”

“I’d love to learn from your seasoned expertise.”

“Hohoho.”

In moments, we became allies, sharing the library’s hidden treasures in Mosul.

“For a beginner, I recommend this one. Its bold yet refined descriptions feel like seeing the real thing.”

“How can I repay this kindness…?”

“It’s nothing. Just an old man’s pastime. I’ve long awaited a true comrade like you, beyond rank.”

“Elder… no, Brother!”

“Little Brother!”

This “Brother,” whose name I didn’t know, recommended several books.

It was a meaningful and delightful time.

“Start with these. They’re perfect introductions to exploring this world. Oh, how I miss the days when I first discovered them, like you…”

As we parted, “Brother” lamented the cruelty of time and left for a pleasant evening with his wife.

He mentioned visiting the library when passion wanes in marriage.

Whatever the reason, a man striving for family harmony is worthy of respect.

These are really well-written. The authors here… are incredibly… arousing…!

The Monster Encyclopedia for Gentlemen was crafted for those ahead of their time.

Complete with exquisitely drawn illustrations, it wasn’t for mercenaries or soldiers fighting monsters but for gentlemen with refined, secretive tastes.

Taming an Elf Slave in 100 Days was a classic of its genre, while The Lustful Dragonian Maid had multiple sequels, with pages worn ragged by enthusiastic readers.

“Priest Moriah, can I borrow these?”

“Of course, Brother. You can borrow three books at a time for seven days.”

“Then these…”

I cautiously handed over the three volumes of The Lustful Dragonian Maid.

Moriah smiled warmly. “Excellent choice. Every gentleman visiting the library borrows these. Brother Maximilian studied them diligently too.” His words comforted my embarrassment.

Maximilian?

As a fellow enthusiast in the same trade, I decided to treat him a bit kinder from now on.

***

Returning from Garam Forest, Garland, still in armor, sought out the Border Count immediately.

But a guest was already in the reception room.

The butler, who meticulously groomed his springy beard every morning and evening, guarded the door like a final soldier.

“Sorry, young master. His Excellency is occupied.”

“A guest? Who’s important enough to block my entry?”

It wasn’t that Garland had a bad relationship with the butler since childhood.

He was surprised not because he was stopped but because he was curious about the guest inside, significant enough to warrant this.

“The King of Bers. He arrived in secret.”

“…!!”

A king from an allied nation, one bordering the Demon Army, as a guest?

Garland swallowed hard at the unexpected visitor.

From beyond the door, he heard his father, the Border Count, and the King of Bers talking, occasionally laughing heartily and clinking wine glasses.

Good gods.

A king, so suddenly…?

Garland hurried back to his room, shed his armor, washed in warm water, and dressed with the help of maids.

The Bers Kingdom, a formidable power directly bordering the Demon Army, couldn’t be ignored.

He might not see the king’s face, but he had to be prepared.

What’s he here for? In secret, no less… The kingdom’s mage hasn’t left yet either…

Garland recalled the female “mage” from the Bers Kingdom.

Always hooded, spending most of her time in his father’s study, she was a suspicious figure.

Called a “mage,” Garland found her unsettling.

More like a “witch.”

The Border Count defended her, saying she was a great asset to him and the city, but…

What’s going on? There are more unfamiliar faces in the castle lately. What’s Father planning…?

The King of Bers held significant influence over the Border Count and Mosul.

In some ways (and in reality), he was closer and seen more often than the Emperor they swore loyalty to.

Garland recalled meeting the King of Bers in private as a child, around four or five years old.

Back then, the king was a young man, barely twenty, newly ascended after his father’s death.

Now, years later, he must have transformed into the kind of “king” people imagine.

Prepared to meet the king, Garland was only able to see the Border Count late in the evening.

The King of Bers was gone.

The Border Count, Tolland Hemilton, warmly welcomed his son.

Despite his age, his well-trained physique was a point of pride for both himself and his son.

“You’re here, my son.”

“Father, I have something to report.”

Garland detailed the goblin extermination:

[The goblins in Garam Forest, hiding from their armed forces.]

[Paramir, the acting leader of the Black Tail Mercenaries, who knew how to lure them out.]

[His unbelievable skill, surviving a situation where he should’ve died and climbing out of the pit unscathed.]

“His skills rival those of titled knights. He knows a lot, too. I’d like to grant him a knighthood and make him my personal guard.”

Garland confessed his small ambition.

The Border Count was silent for a while before speaking.

“Can you tame him?”

“…Pardon?”

“Mercenaries live as they please. Yet a mercenary stronger than Mosul’s knights, acting so casually before you? Can you leash and command him?”

“That’s…”

Garland couldn’t answer.

Paramir is strong.

Not just strong—he’s wise in dealing with people.

In the moment, Garland hadn’t noticed, but Paramir patiently waited until he was ready to heed the advice of a lowly mercenary.

That alone made him a man not to be underestimated.

A lowborn mercenary using such tactics, waiting for the situation to favor him?

That kind of nature might be innate.

Who could say what depths lay behind his bright smile?

The Border Count was pointing out exactly that.

He watched his son ponder with quiet amusement.

Garland’s thoughts deepened.

Paramir was a talent any noble would want under their command.

Even Moric urged recruiting him immediately.

But the Border Count wasn’t swayed by such immediate allure.

Can he be tamed, or not?

People are divided into two kinds: those who are ruled and those who rule.

With his quintessentially noble worldview, the Border Count’s words left Garland unable to respond confidently as usual.

“You don’t need to rush to judge him. But if you can leash Paramir, that’ll prove your worth as the next Border Count. More importantly, son, I’d like to discuss something with you.”

Discuss…?

It was rare for the Border Count, who trusted his sharp judgment and rarely heeded advisors, to say such a thing.

Garland was both flustered and elated that his father saw him as worthy of a real discussion.

He tried to hide his excitement, as he’d been taught since childhood, but it wasn’t easy.

With a faint smile, the Border Count patted his son’s shoulder, showing a kind face he rarely revealed to subordinates.

“I need to choose a gift for the King of Bers. I’d like your opinion.”