Chapter 225 - You Can Leave It to Me

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The Golden Age.

The earliest era recorded in human history, a primordial world in which human civilization had yet to dawn.

Primitive humanity had survived the harsh natural environment only thanks to the spirits' care. In the process, humans learned to communicate with spirits and wield their power.

At the pinnacle stood the Fairy Queen and the Wordsmiths—the first absolute beings of humanity, who transcended human limitations through the supernatural powers of spirit arts and sorcery, respectively.

Of course, that was in the world's earliest days. When the gods descended to earth and the Golden Age ended, Great Witches and Saints emerged, and the Fairy Queen and Wordsmiths relinquished their places as absolute beings.

But that did not mean they vanished altogether. Even after the Silver Age, the Fairy Queen occasionally left the Fairy Kingdom to intervene in the world, while sorcerers sought out talented individuals to pass their teachings down through the generations.

One of those successors was Plato. Though he always called himself a philosopher, he was more famous as a sorcerer or statesman than as a scholar. He was a Wordsmith who lived for over two thousand years and attained the highest level of sorcery in history.

Limon's assessment of that great figure from the history books was simple.

“He was one hell of a con artist.”

“A con artist, you say?”

“He talked your founders into letting him establish the Free Cities League with nothing but his silver tongue, didn't he?”

“True. Even in the Seven Dragons Society, that story is passed down like a legend.”

Li Qingyu smiled wryly. The seven dragons had shattered the mightiest magic, the Great Barrier of London, forced the last fortress, Tartarus, to surrender, and even isolated the first mystery, the Fairy Kingdom. Plato's feat of securing autonomy for the former Greek territories from those same dragons without spilling a single drop of blood was truly historic.

“Well, he was an extraordinary man regardless. As a Wordsmith, a con artist, or a statesman.”

Limon spoke matter-of-factly.

Plato had not been an absolute being, but his influence on the world rivaled any of theirs. The philosophy and theories of governance he had researched and spread over two thousand years had given rise to countless fields of study.

That was why Rose suddenly spoke up.

“There is something I have wondered about for some time.”

“What's that, Countess?”

“I have heard that Plato intensely disliked artists.”

“He certainly did. While he was alive, artists couldn't so much as set foot in the Free Cities League.”

Rose nodded. As the Blue Dragon Clan's princess, she was versed in all manner of scholarship and already knew that. But precisely because of that, she asked Limon the question that had stayed with her ever since she learned of the divine relic hidden in London.

“Then do you happen to know why Plato left behind a relic like this?”

“You can't understand why a man who hated artists so much owned something like this?”

“Yes.”

Rose nodded earnestly. No amount of searching records or documents could answer that question. Only someone like Limon, who had actually met Plato, could tell her.

Limon chuckled at her straightforward question, so typical of the Blue Dragon Clan.

“The reason's very simple. That old man Plato hated artists, but he didn't hate art.”

“... Is that so?”

“Yes. In fact, he refused to acknowledge artists precisely because he sought the most ideal form of art.”

Whether it was poetry full of flowery language, a sculpture with golden proportions, moving music, or a magnificent painting, art was imperfect the moment an imperfect human brought it into being. Perfect art existed only in the Idea, the essence of all things.

An artistic idealist who therefore believed artists were con artists imitating the true art that existed in the imagination—that eccentric was Plato.

As she listened to Limon explain with a chuckle, Rose's expression grew peculiar.

“Then the reason Plato owned something like this...?”

“Probably just what you're thinking, Countess.”

Perhaps the answer had been too unexpected. While Rose wore a conflicted expression, Li Qingyu nodded.

“I see. You're saying that even an idealist who refused to acknowledge real-world art ultimately couldn't resist the desire to bring ideal art into reality?”

“Every idealist dreams of realizing their ideals. That goes without saying for an artistic idealist.”

“Of course. Art is instinct for an artist. Anyone who can resist it is not an artist.”

Ainsha made that declaration with absolute conviction.

Then she turned her expressionless face toward the table and added,

“But this is unexpected. I did not know Plato had an interest in sculpture. I am truly astonished.”

“Well, considering what the old man did while he was alive, he must've hidden it thoroughly.”

Plato had treated every artist as a con artist and banished them. If anyone had caught him making art himself, it could have sparked a rebellion, so he must have guarded that secret with his life.

Limon explained with a mischievous edge.

Then he folded his arms, looking at the case on the table—or, more precisely, the signature “Plato (Πλάτων)” engraved on the deep-gold carving knife inside it.

“Honestly, I'm more surprised that the old man put his name on this so brazenly.”

“Indeed. It is political suicide. No sane person would do it.”

“I find it puzzling as well.”

Without the signature, they would never even have known that this carving knife was Plato's relic. Why had one of history's foremost statesmen taken such a risk and left such unmistakable evidence on a carving knife that could become his weakness?

After briefly pondering that unanswerable question, Limon shook his head. He looked at the deep-gold carving knife and spoke.

“Well, it doesn't matter whether the old man developed dementia in his later years or had some ulterior motive. What matters is that this is one of the Seven Arcs.”

“... You're certainly right about that.”

Li Qingyu nodded. The carving knife's true value lay in its being one of the Seven Arcs. Whatever Plato's intention in making it, that was not something they needed to worry about right now.

“The problem is what to do with this thing that's too valuable to discard but no use to us.”

“No use to us?”

“Countess, would you explain for me?”

“Of course.”

Rose gave a small nod at Limon's request. This carving knife was one of the treasures the Blue Dragon Clan had purchased from European refugees to serve as the core of the Great Barrier of London. Naturally, it was also the clan that had known its capabilities and how to use it, and passed that knowledge on to Limon.

“Li Qingyu, you have probably already guessed, but this carving knife is not a magical artifact.”

“So it is a sorcerous artifact, as I thought?”

“Yes.”

“A divine-relic-caliber sorcerous artifact made by Plato... Even aside from being one of the Seven Arcs, that is a remarkable treasure.”

“Yes. In fact, of the nine treasures our clan purchased during the Demon God War, this is said to have cost the most.”

Even divine-relic-caliber magical artifacts were now antiques difficult to obtain at any price. Sorcerous artifacts, meanwhile, were regarded as practically ancient relics, with scarcely anyone even knowing what they were. The sorcerers capable of making them had become rarer than witches.

“But if it is a sorcerous artifact...”

“Yes. We cannot use this sorcerous artifact.”

Rose nodded with a bitter smile, then added,

“At least, not until we pass the trial of the spirit dwelling within it.”

Unlike magical artifacts, which were made with the power of magic, sorcerous artifacts were made with the power of spirits. As such, most could not be used at all without the spirit's permission. That was one of the key reasons the spirit mages and sorcerers who had dominated the Golden Age had been supplanted by witches and priests.

“And according to that old hag Cir, we won't be able to awaken its power as a Seven Arc either until we've passed a certain portion of the spirit's trial.”

“... I see. So it is a double seal.”

Li Qingyu nodded. Come to think of it, when Eugene mentioned the Seven Arcs, she had spoken of “awakening” them. Perhaps each of the Seven Arcs had its own restrictions, just as only Limon could play the Violin of Deepest Black. Or perhaps only treasures with such restrictions had become the Seven Arcs in the first place.

“Then what is the trial?”

“According to the records, the trial has three stages in total. They consist of...”

A short while later, after hearing the explanation of the spirit's trial, Li Qingyu wore a peculiar expression.

“That sounds like an extremely easy trial, yet an extremely difficult one at the same time.”

“In fact, ever since this carving knife was discovered, only one person is said to have passed even the second stage.”

“Who was that?”

“Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni.”

At that answer, Li Qingyu's expression became stranger still. She looked first at Rose, who seemed resigned to something, and then at Limon, who was massaging his temples as though he had a headache, before speaking.

“... In short, are you saying that even Michelangelo, considered one of the greatest sculptors in history, could not complete the spirit's trial?”

“Yes.”

“And that to awaken its power as a Seven Arc, we need a sculptor who at least rivals him, or surpasses him?”

“If that old hag Cir's prediction is right, yes.”

Li Qingyu understood why Limon had described the carving knife as too valuable to discard but no use to them. Even if it was Plato's relic and one of the Seven Arcs, it was as good as useless if they could not use it.

Yet they could hardly hand it over to the Liberation Brigade. Unable to use it themselves, but unwilling to give it away—it was the perfect example of such a dilemma.

“This is troubling.”

“You're telling me.”

As they clicked their tongues and sighed over the obstacle before them, a blunt voice reached their ears.

“I have a question. I would like to know what is troubling.”

“... Didn't you hear what we were just saying?”

“I did.”

Ainsha answered immediately, as if to say she was no fool, then looked at Limon and continued.

“The solution is simple. Find an excellent sculptor. There is no reason to worry.”

“That's sound reasoning, sure, but where are we supposed to find one of history's greatest sculptors, and how long will that take?”

Limon asked incredulously.

Under his gaze, Ainsha proudly puffed out her chest, her face as expressionless as ever.

“If you have forgotten, allow me to remind you. I am the White Dragon Princess.”

“...”

Limon's expression plainly said, 'So what am I supposed to do about that?' Li Qingyu tilted her head, and Rose looked puzzled. Their reactions were some three thousand light-years away from what Ainsha had hoped for. Her shoulders drooped slightly as she muttered dejectedly.

“You have all forgotten the White Dragon Clan's main business. I am shocked. Deeply disappointed.”

“... Oh.”

“Now that you mention it...”

It dawned on them anew. Within the Seven Dragon Group, which controlled the world's wealth, it was the White Dragon Clan that specialized in the arts and culture business. In other words, this white-haired girl had more direct and indirect connections to first-rate artists than anyone else in the world.

“You can leave it to me. On the honor of the White Dragon Clan, I will find the world's greatest sculptor.”

Watching Ainsha make that bold promise with her face once again expressionless, Limon privately thought that it was quite a talent to be the world's greatest prophet and still make a boast sound so utterly untrustworthy.