Ch.238The Path to Long Legs (2)

The newly renovated Sky Warden had an actual library.

There had been many concerns about storing such heavy books, but Simon, who was in charge of supervision, had become half-crazed and insisted that they absolutely had to include one, so there was no choice.

Well, considering everything Simon had done for us so far, I didn’t particularly object to creating a library for him—it seemed like the least we could do.

Besides, as the only elderly human among us, he inevitably felt somewhat intimidated among our young human couple, the elves, and the dwarves. So, partly to fulfill his self-esteem and satisfaction as a sage, I appointed Simon as the ship’s librarian.

Of course, he doesn’t actually perform the librarian duties himself; other soldiers take turns as assistant librarians, handling the practical aspects of the role.

With only two days left until we reached Long Legs, I was in the library looking up passages describing Long Legs when I called for Simon.

“Simon.”

“Hmm?”

“Something just occurred to me—Long Legs is a columnar basalt formation, right?”

Columnar basalt refers to the distinctive rock formations created when volcanic lava cools and solidifies.

“That’s right.”

“But it’s hundreds of kilometers tall. How do people actually live there?”

Living at high altitudes might sound fantastic, but when it’s on an isolated rocky mountain, the story changes somewhat.

Setting aside the impossibility of food delivery, agriculture and livestock farming would obviously be impossible, and mining would mean literally destroying the foundation of your own home. Creating any kind of value would be practically impossible.

“Well… the ground level wouldn’t be much different from other places. But the people there carve out the insides of the rock formations and live within them.”

“That sounds incredibly inconvenient… Leaving everything else aside, how do they get water? Living that high up, it seems like water delivery wouldn’t be feasible.”

“It’s similar to other cities. They draw up groundwater. The only difference is that the pipes are extremely long. They use special pumps to pull it up.”

“Huh…”

It wasn’t such an outlandish idea.

I had seen skyscrapers in Faerus Vale that were thousands of kilometers tall, so installing pipes inside columnar basalt formations that were only a fraction—perhaps a tenth or a hundredth—of that height would certainly be possible.

“Then how do they get around? Do they build cloud bridges?”

“That’s right. For longer distances, they use airships or airplanes.”

“Why live like that at all? Wouldn’t it be much more convenient to live on the ground?”

“That’s spoken like someone who doesn’t understand. At least living inside the columnar formations keeps them safe from the monsters on the ground.”

“Ah…”

Come to think of it, that was indeed an issue.

With columnar basalt jutting out in all directions, it would be difficult to establish a proper city layout, and building defensive walls would be impossible.

Rather than continuing with such precarious security, carving out homes inside the upper portions of the rock formations actually became the more practical alternative.

“The world is vast… But there will be enough space for our Sky Warden to pass through, right?”

“If the lava and volcanic ash had piled up that densely, it would be called High Mountain, not Long Legs. Don’t worry—it might be a bit tight, but there will be enough space for the Sky Warden to squeeze through.”

“That’s reassuring to hear.”

I closed the book with relief.

I wondered how breathtaking those lofty rock cities would be, connected by cloud bridges and airship routes.

As one of the world’s 52 scenic wonders, it would surely be a magnificent sight.

*

Time passed quickly, and evening had already arrived.

After a long while, we decided to have dinner together in the captain’s quarters. As the meal was served, Hawkman moistened his throat and lamented that we had already reached the edge of the Meridia continent.

“So this is the end of the Meridia continent… We’ve done so much, but time has passed so damn slowly that it doesn’t even feel real.”

“I feel the same way. But isn’t it better for time to pass slowly than quickly? I’d rather not age and die during our pilgrimage.”

“…I suppose so?”

As Hawkman and I exchanged banter, Lucia, who was tilting her wine glass, responded awkwardly.

It would be difficult for an elf to empathize with the time perception of dwarves, who live long but aren’t immortal, and humans, who simply live short lives.

Berkman listened to our conversation for a moment, then addressed Lucia, who was munching on bread.

“You folks have it good. You don’t even feel yourself aging day by day.”

It was a somewhat sharp comment, but Lucia and Casia didn’t seem bothered. This was probably quite familiar to them.

Though it might not feel real to them, Casia had lived longer than the combined ages of my wife and me.

“Well, that’s true. That’s why we don’t have a sense of growth either. If your lives are like roller coasters, ours are more like marathons.”

Lucia took a sip of water as she answered Berkman, who stroked his emerging beard thoughtfully.

“Hmm… That doesn’t seem quite right…”

“Then think what you want. Even my sister Casia and I fight viciously on a regular basis, so what about you different species? Look at our boss—he gave his wife 3,000 lashes with a whip just for interrupting him, yet Raisha still clings to him lovingly. Can you understand that?”

When Lucia asked this, the dwarves’ gazes immediately turned toward us.

“Well… I think it was a bit excessive, but we dwarves have our own hierarchy. If a subordinate inappropriately interrupts a superior, they should rightfully face the consequences.”

“I wasn’t there at the time, but I heard the captain was speaking as a nobleman when she viciously interrupted him. After that, it’s entirely up to the captain. Doesn’t a husband hold the power of life and death over his wife?”

The dwarves didn’t particularly blame me. Having shared the heavy labor of working with iron in closed environments, they were actually extremely conservative regarding the fundamental principle of hierarchy.

However, Lucia smiled softly and began to talk about elven marriage concepts.

“Do you know at what age elves typically marry?”

“I’m not sure. Around 100?”

“Usually between 200 and 300 years old. That’s incredibly late compared to you dwarves and humans. Perhaps because of that, our view of marriage tends to be quite dry. You know how it is… couples who can’t keep their hands off each other when young often become sexless after passing their sixties.”

“Well, that’s true. No one can defeat the passage of time.”

I couldn’t help but think of Seriya, a 200-year-old elf. She had been a good comrade, though perhaps not a good woman. I wondered what she was doing now.

“Power of life and death… chastity… by the time you reach 200 or 300 years old, it all becomes meaningless. In the end, we’re still people who die when stabbed and weaken when starved, so we end up forming bland relationships whether we like it or not, believing that what’s good is good.”

“That’s why long-lived elves seem to lack empathy. But it’s actually the opposite. We open our eyes to see a child become an adult, close them to find that person has become elderly, and open them again to see their child looking back at us. To love someone who isn’t an elf means… overcoming such an immense difference.”

We dipped bread into soup as we listened to the elves’ story.

Honestly, I was astonished that these two elves possessed the intellectual capacity to express their opinions so calmly.

See? How much better it is when they talk with a clear mind instead of being drunk.

“That’s why we love alcohol. At least among drinkers, there are no racial differences—humans, dwarves, elves—when drunk, everyone becomes merry and dances arm in arm. We want to be swept up in that ecstatic whirlwind, even if it means losing our reason.”

“…”

I never dreamed there could be such an emotional reason behind alcoholism.

Is this why communication is so important? Even though I intellectually understand that not everyone is as straightforward as I am, sitting around the same table, sharing food, and having heart-to-heart conversations makes the impact so much more profound.

“Other races envy elves, but we actually envy you.”

“Us?”

“Think about it. It’s been only about a year and a half since we began our pilgrimage through 3 of the 13 continents. How much longer will this pilgrimage last? Two years? Three? Even at the latest, it will end within 10 years. In an eternal life, how much help do you think those fleeting memories will provide?”

“Don’t view the finite nature of life so negatively. An infinite life is… not something I would recommend. Though I’m an elf not yet 100 years old, I believe I have the right to say this much.”

We nodded slowly and solemnly.

Today, we exchanged perspectives on life, and Simon, being the closest to death among us, seemed to have gained the greatest insight.

As we were digesting these dinner table revelations, the Sky Warden approached the city of clouds and fantastic rocks, where black bridges stretched toward the sky.