The frigid land of the north was empty.
Beyond the boundary where civilization meets the cold. The freezing earth stretches endlessly in white, without a single blade of grass or a single tree. In the plains where the bustling sounds of life cannot be heard, only the light is noisy. A snowfield where light bends, shatters, glitters, and bounces off, running wild like an unbridled horse.
An uninvited guest arrived there.
They were refugees fleeing the False Gold (僞金) War.
The False Gold War that broke out at the dawn of alchemy. Its trigger was trivial. The controversy over whether the gold paid by the Marigold Principality was actually replicated through alchemy was the beginning.
That controversy contained a grain of truth, and the Marigold Principality's response, carrying the nuance of 'You don't have the ability to distinguish what's real from what's fake anyway,' became the root cause. The conflict grew like fire spreading through dry hay.
Later historians evaluated it as a war sparked by the most shameless reason, but the trigger was merely a fuse. A fuse that was bound to ignite sooner or later.
The Demon God who led the Nation of Gold to ruin cast its massive shadow over the world.
Even the two principalities that dominated the Western Continent were frail and powerless before the massive change. Distrust of existing values. Fear towards alchemy. Confusion and strife. Losses from change. Everything turned into a problem and struck the principalities.
The skills honed by blacksmiths for decades became useless, and currency lost its trust. Everyone hoarded goods in their warehouses and had no intention of bringing them out. Peddlers wandering the neighborhoods starved to death, and even the principalities' merchant guilds collapsed in an instant. When the flow of money was blocked, every part of the principality began to rot.
Poverty amidst abundance. The order built with gold collapsed in an instant. The higher the climb, the longer the fall. The Marigold Principality, which once operated dozens of merchant guilds and made a fortune, fell into an abyss of debt as an entire nation.
An easy way to solve festered problems is to create an external enemy. The various principalities blamed all problems on the Marigold Principality. Harboring the belief that the world would return to normal if only the Marigold Principality were destroyed.
That belief was resolved in the worst possible way.
Thanks to the war, the wartime economy was revitalized. War was an abyss that devoured resources. Thanks to the mad consumption of military rations, weapons, and lives, the stagnant money flowed. Trust is unnecessary in a wartime system. There is only the desperate struggle to avoid death.
Thanks to the wartime economy, millions of lives were saved. Tens of thousands of soldiers scattered their blood and died on the battlefield, but that was a trivial matter when viewed from the perspective of the entire continent.
The war of necessity grew fiercer by the day. Countless refugees fled to escape the war. However, other principalities, also in chaos due to alchemy, had no margin to accept refugees, and inevitably, the refugees passed through the lands of the Seven Princes and headed toward the land of the North Sea where no humans lived.
Ostracized alchemists, technicians who lost their jobs, witches and druids who left as their forests burned. They too became refugees and settled in the land of the North Sea.
"Alchemists cannot enter our village!"
Bang. The door slammed shut right in the traveler's face. The chilling wind struck the firmly closed door.
This land of bitter cold is not forgiving enough for humans to fight among themselves. Such poor treatment was something that would be pointed out even among refugees.
But if the opponent was an alchemist, it was a different story. Who caused the war? Wasn't it because alchemists replicated gold and enjoyed wealth? The refugees, too, all hated alchemists without exception.
The traveler banged on the door and shouted.
"Hey! We are not alchemists. We are scholars! We learned alchemy as a cultural refinement!"
"How can an evil sorcery like alchemy be a refinement!"
"It's easy once you actually learn it! And it's quite useful. Don't you need fuel too?"
"How can we trust and use things handed over by an alchemist! What are you going to do if the things you hand over turn into sand overnight!"
The door did not open. The group of scholars shivered in the cold and said.
"Tch. This is why the ignorant masses. They don't even know how alchemy works!"
If one is a scholar, they cannot help but pay attention to alchemy. Alchemy is the study of the origin of matter. It is mystical and academic, and above all, useful.
Telescopes, beakers, flasks, tweezers, and so on. Various experimental tools can be easily made with just simple engineering skills and magical power. The scholars learned alchemy like a cultural refinement and established the knowledge of it.
However, the madness of war was too great to be suppressed by reason. It was a world where even renowned scholars were plunged into molten iron just for studying alchemy. Even the children of noble families had to flee to the land of the North Sea to survive.
The scholar, Fahrenheit, crossed his arms and muttered.
"I absolutely cannot understand their judgment. Treating a little over ten alchemists like this? What are they going to do if the alchemists attack?"
Then Celsius hastily stepped forward and said.
"N-no. Fahrenheit. If you do that..."
"I don't mean to do it. I'm just wondering about the basis of their judgment."
Alchemists can produce weapons even with their bare hands. They were not alchemists, nor did they intend to use force, but what if the situation had been a little more dire?
"If we were really alchemists, being hostile right in front of us is not a good choice. They might attack out of anger at the poor treatment. Such a small village wouldn't be able to handle our attack."
They had the ability to raze the village and take only what they wanted. They just chose not to. There were several reasons.
Alchemists already had a bad reputation. It was better to avoid stacking more notoriety and becoming public enemies.
And in the land of the North Sea, where it is hard to stay outside for a long time, the distance between villages is directly connected to the survival rate of all travelers. Eliminating a village would only make the next journey more arduous.
Well, there were many rational reasons like that. But there was a much more primal and important reason.
"Because we will not do that. Even though we are in a difficult situation and have temporarily forgotten the words of the Bible. They must know better than anyone that they must help each other."
"Sister Rene."
"I will try to persuade them again. In the name of a missionary, they will tear down the walls of their hearts and treat us well."
"If you step forward, everything will be easily resolved. Tch. To persuade the ignorant masses, we must rely on authority after all."
That was probably because they were generally good-natured.
It wasn't just refugees who banded together to survive. Scholars also gathered to find scholars matching their intellectual level. Intellectuals who were driven out of the Empire and the Seven Principalities, who learned alchemy as a hobby, formed a group.
Among them, the most famous and outstanding group of scholars was 'Babel', gathered through the introduction of Sister Rene.
They were all teachers and all students. Scholars who had devoted their entire lives to academia were masters of their respective fields, but only had the knowledge of a dilettante in other fields.
Now, with all the scholars gathered in the land of the North Sea, putting their heads together and desperately scheming to survive. Half a step away from the Empire and the Principalities, humanity was taking a massive stride forward.
And, two humans who could be considered special even in the most outstanding Babel.
"With Sister Rene stepping forward, the door will open soon."
One achieved outstanding academic accomplishments in the body of a nun, the clergywoman who gathered these many geniuses, Rene.
And the other was.
"Hey, assistant."
"Yes! Teacher Fahrenheit!"
"Bring Professor Principia."
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"Yes! Professor! It's time to wake up!"
The small child called an assistant scurried to the wagon and woke the scholar who had fallen asleep curled up inside. A muffled grumble was heard for a moment, then a man wearing glasses askew walked over yawning widely. Supported by the assistant and walking unsteadily, he looked frail and sloppy.
But that was only his outer appearance. Even Fahrenheit, Celsius, Pascal, and a few other renowned scholars stepped aside in front of him with respect.
The scholar of scholars, who embraced the geniuses of Babel.
A man called Principia.
"This space itself is a relic."
The sorceress of space, Saint Rene. Her relic was grandiosely space itself.
The blowing wind is cold, and snow is trampled on the frozen ground. The shivering body instinctively seeks a sturdy roof.
However, looking at the clear night sky twinkling with starlight, the longing for a roof vanishes. It is so beautiful and mystical that one might rather wish morning would not come, in a good sense. In that vast sky, within the expansive void, how can humans be so small and insignificant? Just how much knowledge must be filled, and how high a tower must be built to reach that end?
Should we feel sorrow for knowing so little, or should we feel joy in the abundance of things to learn?
Perhaps in the early days, under that clear sky when the Mage Federation had not yet been founded. Rene's mind was filled with that empty space.
I, who read the memories of the relic, looked upon the beginning of all this. Babel. A gathering of scholars unprecedented in history. Among them, the eccentric scholars, Rene and Principia.
"Is that the Demon King?"
If it is Saint Rene's relic, it is connected to both the Demon God and the Demon King. To think the only clue and power to overcome this situation was right nearby. It's an absurd coincidence.
...Though Shei probably prepared it in advance anyway.
"Perhaps because it's a holy relic, or maybe because it's Rene's subspace, the mental image is clear. Are they trying to show me? Well then, let's take a look."
The door opened. Good-natured, beautiful, and bearing the authority of the Sacred Imperial Court, Saint Rene naturally received the hospitality of the villagers. The scholars entered the house one by one, and I too followed them to the next scene.