chapter - 25

Sometimes, absurd rumors spread among people and grow in magnitude.

Especially when there is even the slightest bit of evidence.

“Chess, as described in Through the Looking-Glass, is Haren Kingdom-style chess! Isn't this proof that the author, Homer, is from the Haren Kingdom?”

“Nonsense! To call our great imperial scholar a Harenite based on something so trivial, are you mad?”

Initially, it was just a joke or a baseless conjecture.

Claiming someone was from the Haren Kingdom merely because of a chess rule was ridiculous.

But, as is often the case, rumors start from such trivial jokes.

“Come to think of it, the mystical tendencies in Homer’s literature are similar to the myths of the Haren Kingdom.”

“Indeed! The perspective on the soul in The Sorrows of Young Werther can be accurately interpreted through the Eastern Church’s doctrine, which is prevalent in the Haren Kingdom!”

Soon, people began to fit the rumors with evidence.

Literature was a new perspective on life, and if one sought evidence within it, they could find plenty.

Moreover, testimonies from fans who had seen the author Homer in person added fuel to the fire.

“Mr. Homer was a very exotic-looking handsome man! He had an aura of nobility and stillness, like a mix of Eastern descent?”

“Perhaps Mr. Homer is indeed of mixed heritage from the Haren Kingdom?”

His exotic appearance, blending past and present, was enough to support the speculation that Homer was of mixed heritage.

Some even went as far as to say:

“They say in the Haren Kingdom, royals who are out of the line of succession often change their identities and seek asylum in the Empire. Could it be…?”

“Oh my.”

The rumor was spreading rapidly.

And the subject of these rumors was…

“Son.”

“Yes, Father.”

“People are saying you’re a mixed-blood prince exiled from the Haren Kingdom.”

“…Yes.”

“That would make me the ‘exiled prince’ from the Haren Kingdom then….”

“Haha….”

“I’ve never even been outside the Empire, let alone to the Haren Kingdom.”

“Yes….”

I was eating dinner under my father's scrutinizing gaze.

. . .

Count Frieden was a wastrel.

His hobbies included gossiping about central nobles, causing a ruckus in the council, and feigning illness to avoid attending events in the capital.

The only reason he inherited the title of Count Frieden was that he was the sole son of the previous Count Frieden. He was a born slacker.

He had even once tried to hand over the family headship to his sister but was rejected by the heraldic office.

“Why am I a prince of the Haren Kingdom? My capable second son?”

“…I don’t know either.”

“Are you mixed-blood?”

“No, I’m not.”

Count Frieden wasn’t genuinely upset.

He was just teasing his son.

The head of the Frieden family was a mean-spirited man who enjoyed mocking his children.

“I don’t care if you write outside and take strange potions, but don’t mess with our lineage.”

“Yes….”

“Getting involved with the Haren Kingdom could cause diplomatic issues, and it feels strange to hear such things. You ungrateful child.”

“Father, I never claimed to be from the Haren Kingdom─.”

“Oh, now you’re talking back to me? Ah, the great Homer, the Imperial sage, is raising his voice at his powerless noble father. I fear I might end up being bad-mouthed in your next novel.”

“...”

I was about to say something but shut my mouth and resumed eating.

I couldn’t tell if the soup was going into my mouth or my nose. I just wanted to finish and get back to my room to write.

“You don’t even pretend to listen to your father anymore… Oh, I should just die. When I do, pass the title of Count Frieden to Erik. The ungrateful second son can fend for himself.”

“Congratulations on becoming the head of the family, brother.”

“Oh, thanks, little brother. So, when’s your next book coming out?”

“I don’t know.”

“Raising children is pointless, indeed.”

“Tsk tsk, they follow your example. How can you be so childish at your age?”

My father sulked, and my mother clicked her tongue at him.

This was a typical day in the Frieden household.

. . .

Rolls Kamel was a stutterer.

Her mind was filled with countless fragments of language and poetic inspiration, and translating them into social language was an arduous task.

Hence, Rolls Kamel stuttered.

If she were to recite poetry, she could do so without stuttering, and if she were to tell a story, she could do so all day.

“I, I, I am, qu-quite, q-quite alright! Su-support is, a bit, un-uncomfortable─.”

“You don’t need to be so nervous. We are merely offering our support for your artistic activities. We won’t ask for anything special in return.”

“Well, that, um, uh─.”

Talking to others was extremely difficult.

Especially understanding this “social language.” Rolls Kamel’s language was pure primal speech, literary rhetoric for art, a complex yet intuitive puzzle.

To speak considering how others would judge her words.

It was incredibly challenging.

“If it’s hard to decide right now, please at least read this document.”

“Oh, o-okay!”

“Haha, I’ll take my leave now. I’ll visit again.”

“Y-yes….”

Rolls Kamel threw the document the patron’s representative had given her into the trash can.

Then she quietly lay on the sofa and watched the patterns of the world.

The patterns in the wood of the table, the dust dancing in the sunlight, the mana flickering in the broken magic tool. Observing these made her feel a bit more at ease.

But there was something else that comforted her more.

“I want to play with the children….”

Children, especially pure young girls.

Rolls Kamel loved them. Not in a sexual way.

In a more spiritual sense, she only felt deep comfort and relief when talking to girls.

Perhaps Rolls Kamel’s linguistic sense was similar to the children’s free linguistic sense.

Making up new words as needed, chattering all day without coherence, prioritizing their emotions over others’ perceptions, responding honestly to everything.

Children were the epitome of pure essence. Rolls Kamel believed this.

“Ugh….”

She wanted to play with the children but had to be cautious.

Adults judged the world with their narrow views, making blasphemous evaluations and assumptions.

Many treated her as a pervert for playing with children.

It was horrible. Nowadays, they were even making wild assumptions about the great author Homer, claiming he was a mixed-blood prince or hidden royalty.

People foolishly believed that great writing talent could only come from great bloodlines.

“I miss Mr. Homer….”

Homer had a clearer view of the world.

One could tell from his works─ but that wasn’t the point.

It was more about his attitude and reactions. Homer had no common prejudices or biases of this era.

He entrusted a stutterer with co-writing, laughed joyfully at her praise of a girl’s purity, and showed no noble arrogance or artistic pride.

He was a curiously rational person.

Thus, he seemed pure.

A pure and great intellect.

That’s how Rolls Kamel saw Homer.

“I wish I could be a great writer like Mr. Homer….”

Rolls Kamel, who had been idly gazing at the patterns of the world, suddenly got up and headed to her room.

She decided to write. To become a great writer, one must first be a writer.

. . .

“Boss.”

“Yes! Writer!”

“I’ve been hearing strange rumors in the Empire lately. Please officially clarify our stance. The rumors about ‘royalty from the Haren Kingdom’ are all baseless nonsense.”

“Understood!”

From a marketing perspective, it might not be bad, but there was no need to let potentially problematic rumors persist.

Such rumors had to be quashed early.

So, I tried to suppress the rumors through the publishing house.

[Spokesperson of the Haren Royal Family remains silent on the rumor of Homer being royalty, noting his work embodies the traditions and cultural spirit of the Haren Kingdom.]

...But I was too late.