Ch.256The Scars of History. Moros Ravine (2)

As we dismounted from our horses at the Sky Warden, a middle-aged man, also on horseback, appeared before us. Upon seeing me, he dismounted and knelt down to introduce himself.

“Welcome to Moros. I am ‘Main.’ Being of common birth, I have no surname, so please just call me Main. I am a liaison and guide sent by the governors of Moros Gorge.”

“A guide? What are you guiding? I don’t recall requesting any guidance.”

When I asked this, he raised his hands with an exaggerated gesture, then respectfully clasped them together as he spoke.

“Please do not be angered. I dare not let the Sun’s—”

“Call me Luminator.”

“Yes. Luminator, you surely cannot stand in line with commoners like us for the pilgrimage. That is why I have been assigned as your guide and liaison to attend to Luminator and your companions.”

“I see…”

I nodded and muttered.

Indeed, it would be rather absurd for an Apostolic Seat holder and their companions to stand in line with ordinary people.

“Then I shall grant you the right to attend to us. There must be no mistakes whatsoever.”

“Of course, that goes without saying.”

Main said this and mounted his horse again.

“Please follow me. Is there anywhere you would like to see first?”

“I’d like to see the strata. The one said to be made of monster bones…”

“To see that strata, we need to descend into the gorge. We have airships and trains—which would you prefer?”

“Let’s take the train. I’ve had enough of airships.”

When I said this, Main gazed thoughtfully at the Sky Warden behind us before nodding.

“Follow me. I’ll guide you to the train.”

As Main began riding, we spurred our horses and followed him.

After about 40 minutes on horseback, a station in a secluded area came into view, and a train was just arriving at the platform.

“How fortunate. The train has just arrived.”

“There don’t seem to be many people on it?”

“Well, trains aren’t ideal for leisurely sightseeing. It’s downhill, so controlling the speed can be challenging. Also, viewing the strata is better from the air, so most tourists and pilgrims prefer airships.”

“I see. But the train is still suitable for pilgrimage, right?”

“Of course. The tracks were built with care, after all.”

We tied our horses in front of the station and went inside.

Main excused himself briefly to speak with the stationmaster. After a few minutes of conversation, a special train was prepared and shunted from the yard at the end of the station.

“This is a special train for the Apostle. It’s normally used only on national holidays, but with the Luminator here, isn’t today essentially a holiday?”

“Your words please me. I shall honor this train, built with the blood and sweat of the gorge’s subjects.”

Main silently bowed his head, and we boarded the train that supposedly only operated on national holidays.

*

“Hmm. The decorations are elaborate… and also…”

Swish.

I ran my finger over the train’s decorations, finding no dust at all—rather, there was a slight dampness as if it had been freshly cleaned with water.

“It’s in excellent condition. Truly worthy of being called a luxury train.”

“You flatter us. Even precious things become mere dust-covered antiques without proper maintenance. The people of our gorge understand this better than anyone.”

“Hmm. A commendable mindset.”

I sat down on a chair decorated with geometric patterns and looked around the interior of the slowly departing train.

Befitting its status as a train that only runs on national holidays, the interior was incredibly ornate. Yet it wasn’t just focused on opulence—there was thoughtful design in the way various colors were blended harmoniously to prevent eye strain.

The dwarf brothers, true to their nature, were meticulously examining the interior decorations and gilding, while Lucia and Kasia, true to their nature as alcohol-addicted elves, were pouring and drinking wine from the train’s wine barrels.

Clack… clack…

Finally, the train emerged outside, and I stood up to look at the uneven ground far below.

“Is that it?”

“Yes. The monster strata. The… legendary achievement of our ancestors.”

“Legendary…”

How many monsters must have been killed for their bones to form entire geological layers? And how many people died to accomplish such a feat?

I could hardly imagine it.

In this gorge, where torches, searchlights, flares, and the flashes of explosions were the only sources of light, what praise could possibly be adequate for those heroes who held the front lines until the end, even as they were swallowed by darkness?

“A majestic sight. The Sun would surely commend their valor. How could they ever be forgotten? Right there lies the grave of those who sacrificed themselves, burning brighter than the Sun itself.”

“They would gladly accept the Sun’s praise.”

“Indeed they would. Was it not because of them that the one who ascended to the Sun was born? While Emperor Saburo ended the Age of Darkness, it was these nameless heroes who sustained humanity during that dark time. Never forget that.”

“We shall never forget. It is because of them that we, their descendants, reap the benefits today. People often say that descendants are held accountable for their ancestors’ sins because they grow upon their ancestors’ legacy. And now we are hosting the servants of light and heat upon the bodies of our ancestors.”

“Your words are truly wise.”

Should descendants pay for the sins of their ancestors?

That’s a sensitive topic that could plunge all of humanity into civil war.

Some would say yes, others would say no.

I tended to think not.

There’s no need to take responsibility for sins I didn’t commit.

Of course, there are exceptions in special cases, like princes and princesses inheriting the throne, but for ordinary people living beneath castles and walls, hatred often begins from truly trivial matters. Passing such petty grudges down to descendants seems excessive.

It’s natural to be responsible for one’s own actions, but there’s no need to be responsible for things beyond one’s free will. This is the same reason we punish children’s mistakes lightly—they don’t have the same judgment capacity as adults.

But then, shouldn’t the inheritance of ancestral legacy also be abolished?

Passing down inheritance to blood relatives is impossible without a relationship between successor and ancestor. As mentioned earlier, like a king passing the throne to princes and princesses.

If you want to claim your ancestors’ legacy, you may, but should you also have to accept the karma they accumulated? That was the best compromise I could reach with my intellect.

Simon might come up with a better solution than mine. But I didn’t want to rely on him for this too. I was already depending on him for too many things.

“Luminator. You look unwell. Is something bothering you?”

“No… it’s nothing. Just philosophical musings… I’m thirsty. Would you bring me a drink?”

“Gladly.”

Main bowed his head and brought me a glass of vodka.

Taking the glass, I glanced at the elf sisters and noticed they were drinking the same thing.

“Vodka, not a familiar drink to me.”

“Would you prefer something else?”

“No. This will do.”

I downed the clear vodka.

The fiery aroma of alcohol filled my nostrils, and I could clearly feel it burning down my throat into my stomach. What do those elves find so appealing about this? It might be fine as an accompaniment to food, but it’s not something to drink on an empty stomach.

I handed the empty glass back to Main, then crossed my arms and gazed at the approaching strata.

With my enhanced vision, I could see the still-terrifying skulls and sharp skeletal hands, despite the distance.

The traces of warriors who fought against the monsters of darkness with far inferior technology and much smaller populations than today would remain in history forever.

“They too must have enjoyed drinks after victory. One for fallen comrades, one to celebrate victory, and finally one for the future ahead.”

“Soldiers have always loved their drink, then as now.”

“Yes. A matter for reflection.”

“Pardon?”

“The fact that for so long, cheap alcohol was the only comfort for soldiers suggests we’ve failed to consider what warriors truly need.”

After saying this, I downed another vodka that Main had brought me.

It was still bitter, and the alcohol scent assaulted my nose mercilessly.

But at least it might help me forget the unpleasant memories.