harleyscars Page 141
Page 141
Casalos merely nodded slightly in acknowledgment, but his gaze swept over every reader present.
Elvara's undisguised hostility, Solland Grey's meticulousness and composure, Lisala Silver Page's hesitation and worry, Calvin Iron Scroll's mask-like indifference, and the fleeting curiosity in Tavel Starlink's eyes, even Xavier Arc's all-seeing eyes could not completely conceal the fluctuations in his heart.
"Very good," Ulland nodded in satisfaction. "The rules of the debate are simple: each side will take turns speaking, with a time limit of fifteen minutes per session. You may refute the other side midway through, but you must provide specific arguments or citations. After the debate, the Sentinel Dragon and I will jointly judge."
"That sounds fair and reasonable." Casalos closed his notebook, his tone casual but his eyes unusually focused.
Ulland scoffed, "Fair? Mr. Mereden, you're fighting six Great Readers alone. I don't think that's fair to you. Perhaps you should reconsider and involve your two 'female' companions as well?"
"On the contrary, I believe that the disparity in numbers proves the value of truth even more." Casalos ignored the scroll guardian's arrogant and provocative words, simply gesturing for the eager Toona to calm down: "Truth does not change its essence based on the number of its holders."
"Arrogant merchant!" Elvara couldn't help but rebuke. "Do you think a few strange books from another world can shake the millennia-old wisdom accumulated by Candlecastle?"
Mireem gently raised his hand in a gesture of approval: "Elvara, please save your passion for the formal debate."
The distant chimes of Candlekeep echoed through the council chamber, signaling the impending debate. With a gesture from Ulland, the chamber doors slowly opened, and hundreds of spectators filed in. Among them were low-ranking scholars and monks from Candlekeep, as well as students who had traveled from all over Faerûn. There were arcane apprentices from Waterdeep, bards from Ascatella, and even several representatives from the merchant guild of Goldenvale. Their expressions were filled with curiosity and anticipation, clearly showing their keen interest in this rare public debate.
Casalos observed the audience, most of whom were likely to be the future beneficiaries of Candleburg's knowledge dissemination policy.
In the center of the council chamber, a giant crystal bookshelf slowly rose, emitting a soft blue light. This was one of Candlekeep's most precious magical artifacts, said to be able to display the contents of any cited document, facilitating access to information for both sides of the debate.
Ulland and Mireem walked to the presiding seat, the latter's ghostly form appearing particularly ethereal in the light of the crystal bookshelves. Magical lights from the six districts of Candlehold lit up one after another, illuminating the entire council chamber.
"Gentlemen," Urland's voice, amplified by magic, resounded throughout the hall, "today we will witness a debate about the nature of the dissemination of knowledge. On one side is Edwin Mereden, the 'merchant' from Moonshadow Isle, and on the other are the six esteemed Great Readers of Candlehold."
The audience immediately began to whisper among themselves, clearly surprised and curious about the starkly different lineup.
"The topic of debate is: Should the knowledge of Candlehold be made available to everyone?" Ulland's voice echoed in the hall. "This question concerns the future of Candlehold, and the entire legacy of knowledge in Faerûn."
Mireem took over, her voice as gentle yet powerful as the night wind: "This debate will be based on reason and logic, and we expect both sides to support their arguments with facts and reasoning. Whatever the final outcome, Candleburg will respect the power of wisdom."
Casalos stood up and walked to the debate stage. At this moment, he no longer seemed like the casual and leisurely merchant from Moonshadow Island, but a warrior who dared to challenge the traditional ideas of thousands of years ago, brave, fearless, and unstoppable, with no way to retreat.
Interestingly, it wasn't some truly devoted martyr; its motivation for driving the development of Faerûn was simply the most basic nature of dragons. From a perspective far beyond the limitations of the world, Faerûn's extremely low level of production, completely disproportionate to its productivity, couldn't satisfy the dragons' thirst for wealth. The small continent and even the tiny planet couldn't satisfy their arrogant ambitions for territorial expansion—this was no longer just the information shock of a globalized world from a previous life, but also the thrill of witnessing a far more vast and magnificent world above the gods.
Even the most powerful god is nothing more than a million frontline "maintenance" personnel, just like the after-sales customer service staff of e-commerce platforms!
Having witnessed this scene firsthand, how could a dragon, an ambitious true dragon, possibly remain indifferent to the backward social level of Faerûn—a territory that was destined to be his?
"The debate now begins," Urland's solemn announcement brought Casalos back to his senses. "First, Mr. Mereden will give his opening statement."
Casalos stood in the center of the debate platform, surveying his surroundings. The council chamber fell silent, all eyes fixed on the mysterious merchant from Moonshadow Island. He took a deep breath and began his statement with an almost poetic rhythm: "Mei you ne me no no no kung ni Lin zai zai me ne..."
"Your Excellency, Lady Mireem, Your Excellency Urland, fellow readers and seekers of knowledge in Faerûn, I am Edwin Mereden, and I come today for knowledge and to debate for truth."
His voice was gentle yet firm, possessing a unique charm that compelled listeners to hold their breath—this was the Ballad of the Dragon.
"The starlight of Candleburg shines upon Faerûn, but if knowledge is locked in a high tower, how can it benefit all beings? The essence of knowledge lies in its empirical nature, reliability, and systematicity; its attributes include objectivity, logic, verifiability, progressiveness, and shareability."
The audience began to whisper among themselves, clearly captivated by the philosophical opening remarks.
Casalos continued:
"Empirical evidence, the foundation of knowledge. Netheril's starlight incantations, originating from astronomical observation and experimental verification, have become arcane treasures. Reliability, the shield of knowledge. Mystra's web, honed over millennia, is as stable as a rock. Systematization, the network of knowledge. Scattered runes are not knowledge; only when woven into a system can magic be activated."
His voice gradually rose, his tone filled with passion and conviction:
Knowledge must be objective, free from prejudice; logical, clearly structured; verifiable, accepting challenges; progressive, evolving with the times; and shared, illuminating all beings. A library of ten thousand volumes in the Candle Castle, if not disseminated, is nothing but lifeless material. Knowledge is not a physical entity, but a concept; dissemination is not loss, but rebirth. One lamp can ignite a thousand; how can it be extinguished?
At this point, he turned to the six great readers, his gaze firm and resolute: "I ask you all: if knowledge does not circulate, how can Candleburg call itself the Light of Faerûn?"
An incredible power was contained within these words; almost every listener could feel the profound impact of their inner voice, a power that was not psychic but simply a shock stemming from the "truth" they contained. Even the most faithful scholars of the Candleburg tradition were moved by the logic and persuasive power of these arguments.
Elvara Flameheart immediately stood up, her eyes practically spitting fire: "Edwin Meredon, your words are like a bard's song, beautiful yet dangerous! The Candlehold Library contains power on every page; a single misstep can lead to disaster."
She turned to the audience and continued in a more vehement tone: "You speak of empiricism and reliability, yet the dangers of knowledge far exceed your imagination! A thousand years ago, Netheril's floating city crashed and the land was ravaged by the leak of arcane knowledge. Your so-called 'sharing' is nothing more than igniting the flames of Faerûn!"
Elvara waved her hands, her fiery red robes billowing in the wind: "How can an ordinary person wield a ninth-ring spell? A scroll of forbidden magic, falling into the hands of a villain, will bring devastation. Candlekeep protects knowledge, selecting its recipients to ensure peace in Faerûn. Your utopia is nothing but a naive fantasy!"
Casalos remained unmoved, even managing a slight upturn of his lips—Elvara's emotional rebuttal was entirely within his expectations; that guy was just that impulsive.
He waited patiently for her to finish speaking before calmly and matter-of-factly retorting, "Lady Elvara, your flames are awe-inspiring, yet your arguments are as fragile as a floating city. The fall of Netheril was not due to the dissemination of knowledge, but rather to its rulers' monopolization of arcane arts, their refusal to share or supervise, ultimately leading to its loss of control. Had knowledge been more widely disseminated, the wise men of Forgotten Realms might have been able to detect the hidden dangers sooner and prevent them from escalating."
He invoked the crystal bookshelf to display the history of the destruction of the Netheril Empire, which Candlekeep had stored away. His voice grew deeper and more powerful: "You say that ordinary people cannot master knowledge, but has Candlekeep ever given them the opportunity? Knowledge is like water; when properly guided, it nourishes all things; hoarded, it only breeds decay. Candlekeep claims to be the guardian, but in reality, it has deprived the people of Faerûn of their right to knowledge. I ask you: if a mage misuses a spell due to ignorance, is the fault with the mage, or with Candlekeep, which has locked away knowledge?"
A brief, slight commotion arose in the audience, especially among the students from all over Faerûn who nodded in agreement. Elvara clearly hadn't expected her opponent to so easily find evidence to dismantle her argument—how could a dragon vein sorcerer, a natural-born magical turret, possibly have the time or inclination to consult historical texts? She could only glare at him, speechless.
Seeing this, Thorand Grey immediately took over the conversation. This astromancer spoke in a typical lawful neutral style, his voice calm and precise:
"Edwin, your eloquence is admirable, but your logic overlooks the importance of order. Candlekeep has guarded knowledge for millennia, not locked away in towers, but open to scholars who have passed the test. Your so-called 'sharing' ignores the necessity of selection. Knowledge, like a sharp blade, must be placed in reliable hands."
Soland neatly arranged the documents in his hands and continued, "In terms of your 'empiricism,' the Candlekeep library has undergone rigorous verification. In terms of your 'reliability,' our magical system is stable and secure. In terms of your 'systematicity,' Candlekeep's knowledge system is well-ordered, far exceeding the chaos of your so-called 'free dissemination.'"
His sharp gaze met Casalos's: "You demand the dissemination of knowledge, but who will verify its authenticity? Who will maintain order? Your theory of sharing will ultimately lead to the corruption of knowledge."
Casalos nodded approvingly. Solland's rebuttal was indeed more reasonable, but it still had obvious flaws. Through Elvara's emotional speech, he had already won over some of the audience; now, he would exploit Solland's rigid, rule-bound thinking to further expand his advantage.
"Lord Soland, your order is like the net of Mysriel, rigorous yet restrictive," Casalos's voice grew more persuasive. "The selection process of Candlehold shuts out ninety-nine percent of intelligent life. Knowledge is like a bird, locked in a cage, how can it soar? Like a river, stagnant it rots, flowing it is clear. You call yourselves guardians, but what do you guard? Knowledge, or the authority of Candlehold?"
He glanced around, his gaze sweeping over every audience member and reader: "You ask who verifies authenticity? I answer: the trillion wise men of Faerûn. Practice makes perfect, imagination makes false! The Starlight Incantation, originally merely a fisherman's record of celestial phenomena, has become an arcane treasure through the hands of many. If the Candlekeep Library were locked here forever, it would likely become nothing more than waste paper."
Then, Casalos suddenly turned to the other two Great Readers, his voice laced with obvious provocation: "Lord Tavel, were your elemental experiments also hindered by the strict rules of Candleburg? Lord Xavier, if your geometric truths are not disseminated, how can the order of the universe be verified?"
Taviel Starlink frowned slightly, while Xavier Arc gazed thoughtfully at Casalos, the geometric patterns outlined by arcane light in his eyes radiating a visible glow.
The whispers in the audience grew louder, clearly indicating that Edwin's arguments were gaining increasing acceptance. Mireem and Ulland exchanged a glance; a barely perceptible smile flickered in the former's eyes, while the latter's brow furrowed, clearly worried about the direction of the debate.
Seeing this, Lisala Silverpage decided to change her strategy. The gentle protective mage rose to speak, her voice soft and sincere:
"Edwin, your ideals are moving, but have you ever considered the cost of knowledge spiraling out of control? The Dark Curse of Shadow Valley was leaked, destroying countless villages, and the sages of Candlehold sealed it away with their lives. Can your so-called 'sharing' guarantee that this tragedy will not be repeated?"
Her eyes revealed genuine concern: "Candleburg does not monopolize knowledge, but rather provides it with sanctuary. Knowledge is the treasure of Faerûn, and our caution is a respect for the sacrifices of our ancestors."
Lisala's emotional appeal did indeed resonate with some viewers, especially the scholars of Candleburg.
Casalos realized it was time to strike at the root of the problem and completely dismantle the other side's position.
"Lady Lissara, your kindness is admirable, but to throw the baby out with the bathwater is not the act of a wise man." His voice was deep and powerful. "The tragedy of Shadow Valley was not due to the failure to spread knowledge, but rather because it was monopolized by a few and not tested by the masses. If knowledge had been widely disseminated, the wise men of Faerûn might have been able to break the curse and prevent the disaster. Candlekeep's sealing of knowledge has slowed Faerûn's progress."
Casalos stepped down from the debate stage and stood before the audience, his gaze sweeping firmly over each person: "You all speak of the complexity of human nature, but how can human nature be educated if knowledge is locked away? Knowledge is like light; only by illuminating all can darkness be dispelled. Candleburg prides itself on being the selector, but who has granted it this power?"
His voice rose, filled with passion and power: "The magists of the Tukan Plain, the poets of the deep realms, all have the right to knowledge. What is the difference between a library never shown to anyone and a tomb? If you truly care for Faerûn, why not open the doors and create a future together with all beings?"
This impassioned speech drew applause from the audience. Even a small group of scholars from Candleburg were moved by this idealistic discourse.
Xavier Arc finally spoke, the geometer's voice abstract and profound: "Edwin, your eloquence shines like the stars, yet knowledge is a projection of the cosmic order, beyond the comprehension of ordinary men. To spread it indiscriminately is like handing high-dimensional equations to children, only adding to the confusion."
His fingers traced complex geometric shapes in the air: "The Candleburg Library, like mathematical theorems, requires rigorous derivation before it can be made public. Your theory of sharing ignores the hierarchy of knowledge and risks disrupting the harmony of Faerûn."
Although Xavier's remarks were profound and difficult to understand, Casalosas astutely grasped their essence—geographers were not entirely opposed to the dissemination of knowledge, but rather concerned about the methods and pace of its dissemination.
"Lord Xavier, your geometric beauty is awe-inspiring, yet the order of the universe resides in the hearts of all beings," Casalos responded in an almost poetic tone. "Knowledge is like the stars, distant yet all-encompassing; like the river, rushing yet nourishing. The library terrace of Candleburg, locked in a high tower, is but a dim starlight; flowing towards Faerûn, it becomes a dazzling galaxy."
His voice gradually rose, reaching an almost transcendent state: "Knowledge is not a substance, but a concept; dissemination is not loss, but rebirth. If Candleburg opens its doors and shares the spark with all beings, the future of Faerûn will not be a temple for a few, but a collaborative creation of millions of wise men."
Casalos surveyed the entire hall, his eyes filled with sincerity and expectation: "Gentlemen, I beseech you: join me in igniting the light of truth!"
The entire council chamber fell into a brief silence after these words, followed by enthusiastic applause. Even some of the great readers' disciples were unconsciously moved by this inspiring speech.
Only Calvin Iron Scroll remained calm. This lawful, neutral conjuration mage stood up and delivered his final summary in a serious tone:
"Edwin, your ideals are beautiful, but reality is not poetry. Candleburg has protected knowledge for a thousand years, and Faerûn enjoys its stability today. Your theory of sharing ignores the dangers of knowledge. Our caution is not about monopolization, but about protection. The peace of Faerûn depends on the order of Candleburg."
45. A result that yielded no result.
"The Peace of Faerûn?" Casalos's tone abruptly shifted from chanting a dragon's song to displaying the majesty of a lord. His voice turned chillingly cold, his vertical pupils contracted dangerously, and his half-closed second eyelids quietly opened, revealing the true nature of a dragon. "Where, when, and by whom is this peace?"
The air in the council chamber seemed to freeze; the crowd held their breath, and even the candlelight seemed to stand still. Those who had just been applauding Edwin Meredith's impassioned speech now felt an inexplicable pressure pressing down on them from all sides.
Calvin Iron Roll stood there, clearly not expecting his opponent to retaliate with such an aggressive attitude.
"From the Dark Ages to the Dawn Ages, from the Age of Thunder to the Age of Prosperity, and now to the Vale Calendar, Faerûn has never known peace." Casalos walked to the center of the debate stage, each step seeming to tread on the hearts of the audience. He was no longer the polite Moonshadow Island merchant, but a being who looked down upon all things.
"Your vision is confined to a narrow, insignificant vantage point by your short lives." He stood firmly, surveying the six Great Readers, his voice carrying an invisible pressure. "The war of the gods split our planet into two worlds, Abel and Toril, which coexist but are incompatible. The rise and fall of the founding races annihilated countless lives. The racial war between dragons and giants created the mountain ranges that now form Faerûn. The flourishing of the elves tore the continent apart and plunged their own kind into darkness."
Human disguises became unnecessary at this moment. Casalos suddenly twisted, transforming into a gigantic dragon form, its silver-blue scales shimmering coldly under the council chamber's lights. It spread its wings, yet controlled them so as not to damage the hall's structure, ensuring that everyone present could clearly see its true identity. Sparks leaping from its scales ionized the air, and the dull stench of ozone filled the air.
A gasp erupted from the audience, and some even fell from their seats. The monks of Candlekeep gasped, but their eyes gleamed with excitement—not for the dragon itself, but for the ancient secrets revealed in its words.
The Scroll Guardian Ulland's face darkened, and the Great Reader Solander Grey-Robed narrowed his eyes, but their expressions revealed more caution and annoyance than fear. Mireem's ghostly form merely floated slightly, a barely perceptible smile flashing in his silver eyes.
"Concealing your identity is disrespectful to Candlekeep, Dragon Slayer." Tavel Starlink remained calm, only slightly frowning. "Although we do not have a rule prohibiting dragons from visiting in human form."
"This is not concealment, but revelation," Casalos responded. "I am not here to deceive, but to show the truth."
"And now, in this era where humanity has taken center stage, war and conflict are commonplace." Casalos unleashed his dragon's might, causing the temperature in the council chamber to plummet, yet he precisely controlled the range and intensity, enough to instill pressure in those present without causing them to succumb to fear or incapacity. "Your short lives have made you indifferent to the long-term future, plunging you into endless struggles for immediate, short-term gains."
While no one was named in the criticism, every scholar from Candlecastle present sensed the underlying hostility. Casalos's perspective undoubtedly granted him a broader and more comprehensive understanding of Faerûn's history and present state. This wasn't merely a difference in knowledge, but a fundamental difference in life forms and concepts of time.
The dragon's head turned to the audience, its voice booming: "Since the beginning of the Valley Calendar, since human civilization became the dominant force in Faerûn, war has never ceased. Although the cataclysmic destruction that tears the continent apart is no longer present, it has been replaced by countless small-scale but continuous conflicts. The century-long border dispute between Cormir and Ascatra saw ordinary people take up arms, and ordinary people also died. The trade war between Damara and Vasa, seemingly just a power struggle between merchants, actually claimed the lives of hundreds of thousands of civilians."
Dragon's eyes swept across the entire area: "Look at the map of Faerûn, from Icewind Dale to Luskan, from the Moon Sea to the Sword Coast, which inch of land hasn't been stained with blood? Which kingdom hasn't experienced civil war? Which city-state hasn't suffered invasion? Human wars, though smaller in scale, are more frequent and widespread, with the total number of deaths even exceeding those epic battles of ancient times."
Several great readers exchanged glances, stunned by the historical statistics Casaloz had mentioned. Many of these figures exceeded even the existing records of Candlekeep. Calvin Iron Scroll was the first to recover, suppressing his shock and managing to keep his voice steady: "Sage among the dragons, please relinquish your dragon's might. Your identity cannot change the facts—Candlekeep protects knowledge precisely to prevent powerful beings like yourself from abusing magical power."
Casalos flicked his tail dismissively, leaving a deep scratch on the ground: "Leaving aside the conflicts between the various races, regions, and powers of Faerûn, countless evil beings covet the Prime Material Plane in the continent, the Underdark, the Abyss, Hell, and even the Astral Plane in the rift between realms. Even some gods are constantly plotting to destroy the entire continent."
His dragon head lowered slightly, staring directly into Calvin Iron Scroll's eyes: "Is this what you call peace?"
Ulland finally spoke, his voice laced with obvious anger: "No matter how many secrets and anecdotes you possess, they cannot defend your position. Your true identity should have been revealed to Candlehold before the debate even began."
"Rules?" Casalos let out a low, mocking dragon's roar. "I'm merely stating my views in their most authentic form. If even truth becomes taboo, then what is the meaning of knowledge?"
Casalos slowly reverted to human form, transforming back into the outwardly serene Moonshadow Isle merchant. His eyes, however, retained the vertical pupils of a dragon, gleaming strangely in the candlelight: "Because I saw it with my own eyes, I participated in it myself. For dragons, a century is but a fleeting moment. And this is my argument—Candlehold imprisons not only knowledge, but also truth. What you fail to acknowledge is that, no matter how much knowledge is sealed, powerful beings—whether dragons or others—have never ceased their influence on Faerûn."
He glanced around and smiled slightly at the audience, who were just beginning to recover from their shock: "Ladies and gentlemen, do not be alarmed by my identity. On the contrary, it further proves my point—knowledge should not be controlled by authority. Whether as powerful as a dragon or as ordinary as a human, all should be equal before knowledge."
The atmosphere in the room became subtle. Some people still stared in fear at the "dragon-man" who had suddenly revealed his true form, while others seemed thoughtful, as if moved by his words. After all, it was extremely rare for a dragon to voluntarily give up its own advantages to fight for the right to knowledge for ordinary creatures.
Tavel Starlink suddenly spoke, his voice surprisingly calm: "Your perspective certainly has merit, but the dissemination of knowledge still requires order. Isn't the Conflict of Faerûn, which you've witnessed, a result of a lack of rules?"
"Rules and confinement are different concepts," Casalos responded, his tone regaining its calm. "Knowledge needs rules to spread, not high walls to imprison it. Only if Candlekeep can establish a reasonable knowledge-sharing mechanism, instead of the current near-closed system, can it truly serve the future of Faerûn."
Lisala Silver Page asked softly, "If we open the gates, as you wish, will Faerûn become more peaceful, or will it become more chaotic due to the spread of power?"
Casalos smiled, a genuine smile: "That's a good question, Ms. Lisala. The spread of knowledge doesn't necessarily bring peace, just as darkness doesn't necessarily breed evil. But it at least offers possibility—giving those bound by fate the opportunity to choose their own future."
Ulland scoffed, "Sweet talk! We've already witnessed the consequences of the spread of knowledge—the magical disaster in the City That Never Sleeps, the wizarding turmoil in Virasania—weren't they all tragedies caused by the loss of control over magical knowledge?"
"And these tragedies," Casalos retorted sharply, "were all caused by the monopoly and abuse of knowledge by those in power? It is precisely because ordinary people know nothing about magic that they are helpless when disaster strikes. If everyone understood the basic principles of magic, disasters might be detected sooner and controlled more quickly..."
The debate lasted for nearly two hours in this confrontational atmosphere. Casalos, with his profound knowledge and eloquent speech, repeatedly deflected the attacks from the six great readers. However, even with a few wavering voices, the traditional scholars remained unconvinced. The two sides were like parallel lines; despite their heated exchanges, their viewpoints never intersected.
Finally, Mireem floated to the center of the debate stage and gently but undeniably concluded the debate: "Time is up. Thank you all for your insightful presentations. Debates about the dissemination of knowledge have existed since ancient times. Although there is no definitive conclusion today, the clash of ideas is itself part of the transmission of knowledge."
Ulland seemed about to say something, but held back under Mireem's gaze. Casalos nodded slightly and returned to his seat. The audience, though slightly disappointed, applauded in unison, expressing their appreciation for this rare debate.
After the event, Casalos met up with Toona and Ravenna, and the three headed to their assigned accommodations.
"Your performance was brilliant!" Ravenna whispered excitedly, the barbarian's rugged face filled with admiration. "I've never seen anyone dare to debate with the Great Readers like this in Candlekeep."
Tao Na shook her head slightly, a hint of doubt on her delicate face: "This is a debate that will never have a conclusion. What's the point of such an argument?"
"The debate itself is meaningful." Casalos smiled slightly, his gaze sweeping over the whispering audience and scholars around him. "See? The seed has been sown."
Indeed, both inside and outside the council chamber, people were discussing the debate with great enthusiasm. Scholars and seekers of knowledge from all over Faerûn would take what they had seen and heard back to their homelands. And the bards would compile the content of the debate into poems, which would be sung in taverns and streets throughout the continent.
The ideas put forward by the dragon that suddenly appeared will spread like ripples across the entire continent. This was one of Casalos's goals; those stubborn Candlekeep scholars could not be persuaded, but the debate itself had already achieved its purpose—sowing a seed in the soil of Faerûn, waiting to sprout.
"What's next?" Ravenna asked, still reeling from the debate. "They're not going to kick us out of Candlekeep, are they?"
"These guys won't openly break the rules they set. We'll stay for ten days as long as we can. Whether new rules are added later is none of our business..." Casalos stopped and looked at the Central Library in the distance. "Next, we have an appointment with Mireem."
46. "Dating"
Casalos stood in the deep corridor of Candlekeep, quietly awaiting his "appointment" with the ancient silver dragon ghost. The vast Candlekeep was unusually silent at this moment, save for the faint crackling of oil lamps and the occasional rustling of pages turning in the distance. Such tranquility felt almost unreal to a dragon accustomed to the ceaseless sounds of steel forging and the explosions of sorcerers' magical experiments throughout the Dragon Realm.
"How strong must a dragon's willpower be to remain sane after eight hundred years of confinement?" Casalos muttered to himself, lost in thought. In dragon society, imprisonment was a punishment more cruel than death. Dragons were always proud, and even those captured by humans usually chose to starve themselves to death rather than accept long-term imprisonment.
Mirim is clearly an exception; whether forced or compelled by the contract, she survived. Such an ancient, primordial silver dragon spirit must harbor many more secrets deep within her soul. To break the contract binding Mirim, one must first learn more about her, especially her past that she has deliberately "forgotten."
"You've come." A familiar, ethereal voice sounded behind Casalos, and Mireem's translucent figure slowly emerged from the wall. "The people of Candlehold are currently busy dealing with the aftermath of that heated debate. Those visitors are giving them a headache. Now is the perfect time for us to 'talk privately'—was this also part of your plan?"
“Ms. Mireem, I am very interested in your past.” Casalos did not answer the silver dragon’s last question, but went straight to the point, skipping the pleasantries, “especially about those parts you have ‘forgotten’.”
Mireem's form rippled slightly in the air, as if startled, his silver eyes flashing with a complex light: "I don't understand what you mean, Edwin... Oh, what should I call you? You haven't told me your real name yet."
“Cassaloz, Iron Dragon Casaloz,” it answered calmly.
“Iron Dragon? Not Song Dragon… Okay, I understand, I will keep this secret!” Mireem paused for a moment, “Now, let’s talk about what you want to talk about.”
“As for what I mean… Mireem, eight hundred years is a long time, even for a dragon. You claim your memory is hazy, but I suspect that those ‘hazy’ parts are precisely the history you least want to mention.”
The wandering spirit abruptly stopped, and after a long while, it sighed with icy breath, then quietly floated to a row of bookshelves, its transparent fingers tracing the ancient spines of the books: "Come with me."