“I offer my thanks again, Yamai Zenjirou, for accepting our sudden invitation. We of Utgard wish to negotiate with the Capuan royal family.”
Whether his immediately jumping into the main topic was due to Utgard’s traditions or his own disposition, Zenjirou found himself taken aback, but he offered a safe answer.
“You do? Although I am royalty, I am not the king and do not represent the royal family as a whole, so there are significant limits on what I can agree to here. With that proviso, I would be glad to hear you out.”
There was a lie in his words. He was the prince consort, so his authority was only slightly less than the queen’s. However, he knew that he didn’t have the ability to use that authority properly, so he put such limitations on himself.
Then again, Zenjirou’s ability to use teleportation to visit Aura for a final decision at any time meant that even with him acting as a go-between, they would be able to come to an agreement almost as quickly as a diplomat with authority on-site. This made him the most valuable form of communication: a direct line to Aura.
“Very well. Hear me out first. What we wish to commission from the Capuan royal family is transportation between worlds. From what we have heard, your lineal magic makes that possible.”
The abrupt familiarity of the topic made Zenjirou forget himself and speak plainly. “What on earth for? I want to know that first,” he demanded, all too aware of his heart pounding nervously in his chest.
“To negotiate with Utgarða.”
“Utgarða? Is that different from Utgard?”
The representative’s answers were all utterly to the point, so Zenjirou had to ask more and more. Fortunately, the ruler showed no displeasure with Zenjirou’s attitude and continued answering.
“It is.”
The problem was that his follow-up answers were just as brief.
“Exactly how? What is Utgarða?”
“Utgarða is the home of our ancestors. The world where our ancestors—the Jötunn—live. This is Utgard, the city built by those who came from Utgarða.”
The explanation matched what Zenjirou had heard from Aura and Bruno of the Twin Kingdoms. He could accept that, just as the people who had emigrated from Hiroshima had created the city Kitahiroshima.
“I have heard that the people of Utgard are descendants of giants—the Jötunn. Is that true?” he asked.
The question prompted the first real change in the representative’s expression so far. The man’s face was strong, almost carved from granite, and the expression that made its home on his features could be called a smile of almost cynical amusement.
“Our traditions hold that we carry their blood. Those like me who are particularly large are said to carry more of it, and are respected. Part of the reason I am the current Rök is likely due to my size. The Jötunn that our history discusses, though, are too different from humans, and I cannot see how they could mate together.”
After listening to his explanation, Zenjirou cast his eyes over the gargantuan pieces of furniture they were sharing a room with, then looked at the similarly large door and nodded in understanding.
“I see. Would they be a size to match the furniture?” he asked.
“So they say.”
“They say? Then it is false?”
The man opposite lifted his broad shoulders into a shrug. “It was centuries ago. So many generations have passed since we lived alongside each other. There is no one to corroborate it, so I can’t say for sure. The physical evidence is there, though, so I would say it is true.”
Some of the furniture in the massive temple would have been remade recently, but much of it came from the city’s founding. Of those, some of them, like the sofa, had depressions in the middle of the cushions. The door knob was worn to a shine, so there was no other conclusion to draw but that giants had used it.
“We have weapons sized for giants in our armories as well. The handles are well-worn, so I think it’s almost certain they existed. Oh, there is one more thing. It is less hard evidence and more just a clue. I can ‘show’ you what a Jötunn looked like if you wish?”
He can “show” me something that hasn’t existed for centuries? And despite being able to do that, it isn’t real proof? Not quite understanding, Zenjirou tilted his head.
His young brother-in-law, however, immediately inferred the meaning. “Are you speaking of illusion magic?”
“Exactly, Yngvi. I can reproduce what the previous Röks have passed down to show you.”
Illusion magic was Utgard’s lineal magic. The people who had come from Utgarða to Utgard—in other words, the founding generation—would have seen the giants with their own eyes. When they became parents or grandparents, they could use their memories to show their descendants what those beings looked like. Then, those children could use their own illusions to duplicate their ancestors’. That would repeat over and over, according to the representative.
Zenjirou could picture that process, and he couldn’t help but ask, “I... Pardon me for asking, but is it an accurate image?”
The bigger man smiled broadly. “Outsiders would naturally have to doubt that. I find it unlikely myself. After all, the Jötunn that I can reproduce are all beautiful or handsome. Yet, according to our history, they worried over their monstrous appearances.”
The Jötunn were objects of reverence for the people of Utgard. So the combination of the caster’s desires and biases would gradually beautify the illusions. The blatant amusement on his face as he spoke didn’t seem to suggest much respect for them, though.
“I see. Then if you would?” Zenjirou asked. His request was driven more by curiosity than an attempt to gather information.
“Very well. If you would look at the Jötunn seat over there,” the ruler gestured.
Zenjirou and Yngvi did so. Out of caution, or for whatever reason, the representative covered his mouth so that his lips couldn’t be read before speaking so quietly it was impossible to hear. The results were immediately apparent. Zenjirou gasped.
“Wow!” Yngvi exclaimed.
The figure was certainly a giant. While Zenjirou had no idea how long giants lived, if he were a human, he would have looked to be in his thirties.
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