Chapter 117 - Ancient Magic

Azriel and Rhema usually played chess after supper. The room with an open terrace towards the lake and a fireplace was the chess room. It naturally became a room dedicated for chess as they placed the chess set in the beginning. Rhema was staring at delicately carved chess pieces. He was on the brink of being defeated today as well. Azriel quietly looked into his face shaded by the light of the fireplace. When playing chess, Rhema somehow felt comfortable and cute, especially his slightly knitted brows from thinking hard. It might be because he continued to lose to her even though they played every day. His chess skills did not improve much somehow. He moved his knight carefully. Azriel pierced into the gap where the knight vacated. Rhema’s king, who was stuck in-between her rook and bishop, now could not move a bit. Rhema slightly sighed.

“I lost. What did you bet on, this time?” he asked.

“A box of gold coins. Rhema, by any chance, are you doing this because you want to give me allowance?” Azriel said.

“I can request what I want from you if I win, so why would I lose on purpose?”

“What do you want to request if you win?”

“I’ll let you know after I win.”

“I might just lose because I’m so curious.”

“Azriel, losing on purpose is cheating.”

“Why, because it’ll take away the fun?”

“It’s because if you gain something so easily, it’s difficult to know it’s worth, not to mention it’ll take away the fun,” Rhema laughed in a low voice. Azriel liked his smile. Even if it was not a bright smile, when he smiled loosely like that, she sometimes felt her heart sink. It might be because of the fear that she might end up being killed by Rhema one day, ending days like these. She concluded it this way whenever it happened.

‘What will happen. to Rhema after killing me? Will he forget in a few hundred years, saying such a thing once happened? Like he can’t recall how close he used to be with his twin sister, or…’

No. I won’t die. I will find the case that I don’t have to die. She opened her mouth, organizing chess pieces. “Rhema, I met a nameless wizard today.”

Rhema’s hands, which were organizing pieces with her, paused. Azriel continued. “I mean someone suffering from the unnamable excessive mana disorder. You know about it, Rhema, right?”

“…I am aware of it,” he said.

“There was no such illness in ancient times, wasn’t it? Nameless wizards would’ve become real ‘wizards in ancient times, right?’

Rhema looked at her with his grey eyes, which made it hard to guess what he was thinking. And he slowly nodded. “You are right. People who were born with such mana generally became outstanding wizards.”

“Then, will their symptoms be resolved if they learn magic, not conjuring?” she asked.

“Naming their mana should come first. After that, you let them learn magic. That’s what they did as soon as such a child was discovered in ancient times.”

“How simple…”

“It’s not too simple. Since it’s not easy to name such children’s mana, there were even specific procedures to name their mana.”

“Why did such procedures… I mean the ancient magic, disappear?”

Rhema closed his mouth. He lowered his eyes and seemed somehow sad. Even though his face was calm, it felt that way to Azriel.

“Is it a question you can’t answer?” she asked.

“No. It’s just…,” he hesitated and kept silent for some time. Azriel asked in a different way. “What I learned, it’s ancient magic, isn’t it? Can I teach it to other people?”

“Is it because you want to cure the nameless wizard?”

“Yes, I want to help her.”

Rhema agonized over something with his mouth shut. Slightly nervous, Azriel waited. Suddenly, questions sprang up in her mind.

‘Will I be able to turn a blind eye to the Duchess who was moved to tears and Sophinea who attempted to take her life? Or will I end up helping them regardless of what he says?’