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“Year 119 of the Grand Duchy, February 15th.”

This is the starting date of the first diary entry in “Philip, Scion of the Sun’s Diary.”

“The current year is 151 of the Sapphire Grand Duchy, which means this diary began thirty-two years ago?” Liszt calculated briefly.

The Duchy of Sapphire had no official calendar of its own and did not use the calendar of the Steel Ridge Kingdom. The concept of history was not popular in the Different World; generally, people had no thoughts about the past—there was no idea of learning from history.

Thus, the Duchy of Sapphire did not even have a National Day.

Sea Outing Festival and the New Year Festival were the most important holidays. Sometimes the national anniversary celebration would be held on the Sea Outing Festival; other times it would be scheduled on the New Year Festival, and sometimes it would be celebrated on a random day, according to the wishes of the Sapphire Duke. Liszt concluded that the concept of “nationalism” had not taken root.

The subtlety of the feudal nobility system lies in the structure of Knight vassalage, the greatest essence of which is—my subject’s subjects are not my subjects; my lord’s lords are not my lords.

For example, Liszt’s master was Coral Island’s Count, not the Sapphire Duke.

Therefore, as a subject of the Earl, he had no obligation to pay attention to the Sapphire Duke; the Sapphire Family had no commands over him. To him, his true nation was Coral Island, not the Duchy of Sapphire. If he were to feel love, it would be for Coral Island, with no need to love the Duchy of Sapphire.

All Nobles were Landlords, even the King was merely a larger Landlord.

Of course, a widespread sense of nationalism could not form.

That’s why only Nobles commemorate the Sea Outing Festival, commoners simply don’t care. In Fresh Flower Town, Liszt’s birthday celebration was definitely more important in the hearts of the residents than the Sea Outing Festival—Lord Landlord grants me land, as if a parent. Who is the Grand Duke, can he be eaten, steamed or braised?

HIs thoughts digressed.

Liszt continued to read the diary.

“Clear skies, climbed trees to pick fruit, ten Human Skull Fruits; cut down three trees; dug foundations, preparing to build a house. Organized the knowledge taught by my grandfather, in the Sun Script ‘X’ represents ‘me,’ I am a Descendant of the Sun, my ancestors spoke Sun Script.”

This “X” represented a very twisted character.

It was complex, it looked like a painting, seeming like a little person with wings, carrying some kind of tool, dancing exuberantly.

“A single word is like a painting, which country’s writing is this, it’s too bizarre. I guarantee, with such writing, one wouldn’t learn five hundred characters even by the age of a hundred!” Liszt exclaimed. Of course, it was an exaggeration, but indeed, the so-called “Sun Script” was very complex.

Many subsequent pages of the diary contained inconsequential records of daily life—picking fruits, cutting wood, building houses, trading items with someone, seeing certain wild animals.

But at the end of each diary entry, a Sun Script character was recorded.

I, father, mother, grandpa, grandma, big, rice, soil, sky, earth, horse, flower, individual, ten, painting, above… For some words, Philip provided specific explanations, such as rice being a certain kind of cereal grain, horse referring to a unicorn, and flower referring to a sunflower, which he had never seen, only heard from his grandfather, common things to their ancestors.

“Unicorn? Could such legendary creatures really exist?” Liszt doubted.

He even doubted the Sun Script itself, which just seemed like various little drawings; he didn’t believe these depicted some kind of writing—perhaps it was just Philip’s grandfather, bored and concocting it himself, to fool his silly grandson.

A thick diary.

Most of it was Philip’s mundane daily routines on Dodo Island and Sun Script lessons.

Occasionally, he would recall his time working on other islands—meeting a noble’s daughter, a very kind young lady, who taught them the commoners’ language. Philip proudly stated that he learned the fastest and gained the young noble lady’s favor, even reaching the point of eloping.

Unfortunately, as documented in a certain diary entry—his affair with the young lady was discovered by her mother, who wanted to kill him.

With the noble lady’s help, Philip then escaped that island. He didn’t mention the name of the island, saying he did not want to sully the noble lady’s reputation.

Apart from these details.

The diary occasionally mentioned Philip’s ancestors—mainly stories his grandfather had told him.

Such as, the ancestors raising a troop of magical dragons with two heads, the ancestors once shooting down the sun from the sky, the ancestors drawing extraordinary powers from well water, the ancestors living in cities grown from trees, the ancestors befriending wolves, bears, eagles, and tigers, the ancestors immersed in music.

His grandfather referred to the ancestors as—Children of the Sun.

“So the question arises, why would the Child of the Sun shoot down the sun? Patricide?”

The stories were fragmented and vague.

Mainly because Philip’s writing was very succinct. He worried he didn’t have enough ink or thick leather paper to write on; the later entries became sparser, even reaching the point where he recorded his diary every few days—half of the thick leather paper had been used, perhaps he realized that this diary could not record every trivial matter in his dull life.

“One might as well rename the book to “Private Tutoring Records of the Sun Script”.” Liszt prepared to close the diary, having found no connection between it and the unopenable drift bottle.

He thought he might as well smash the metal bottle.

To see what exactly was inside it.

But just as he was closing the book, since he was closing it from back to front, the last page closing last, something caught his eye from the periphery—this page was not blank.

He casually flipped it open.

To discover there was another diary entry, or perhaps an essay.

“My will.”

“Grandfather told me upon his departure, should one day a golden bottle be found upon the sea, it was a letter written to us by our ancestor. Our ancestor had mastered a method of sending letters across the sea, the magic-powered bottle would travel across the ocean guided by our bloodline. A smear of blood is all it takes to open the bottle and retrieve the letter inside.”

“I didn’t believe it, but, my descendants, if one day you come across it, remember to send a reply.”

This was Philip, Descendant of the Sun’s “will,” which is why it was placed at the end of the diary. After reading it, Liszt was completely unsettled.

The bottle Philip mentioned must be the one the fisherman had found by the seaside, now sitting on his desk.

“Does this mean that Philip and his grandfather’s stories are actually true, that they really are descendants of some exiled noble family? Is the Sun Script real too?”

He recalled the prior mission.

It mentioned an “unopenable bottle, incomprehensible script,” needing a book to guide one!

Without a doubt, it was this book.

Picking up the drift bottle, Liszt walked straight out of the study.

“Master, are you going out?”

“Off to the Tanners’ Shop. Mr. Carter, you stay at the castle, let Jessie come with me. By the way, has Jessie returned?” He remembered that he had sent Jessie to deliver silver coins.

“Not yet; he probably went to the town to watch the comedy play again, you know, young people always like to join in the fun.”

“Never mind, no need to look for him. I will take Philip and Zavier to the Tanners’ Shop.” Having said that, he hurriedly left the castle, took two Retainer Knights, and dashed straight for the Tanners’ Shop.